Cornfield Madness
by Tavia
Summary: We're back! In honor of On Stranger Tides, I offer you a new chapter in the cornfield, featuring popcorn, bickering, and responses to the recent movie. CONTAINS SPOILERS!
1. Elephants and Bowls

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates.  And consequently I don't own anyone parading through here.  I don't even own a great deal of the randomness.  I wrote it all up, but a great many of the random ideas came from my wonderfully random friends, particularly Cate, Meaghan and Panda (if I'm forgetting someone, you can poke me about it at school).  Love ya, guys!

Cornfield Madness

Summary:

What happens when you take several POTC fans, give them too much sugar, and have them wander in a cornfield maze (Halloween, you know) while tossing out any random Pirate-story idea that comes into their head?  This story.  Multiple random objects attack Jack, a bonsai plays a major role, many of Jack's lines have a remarkable resemblance to Johnny Depp lines, and dead does not necessarily mean, y'know, _dead_.  If you're looking for a plot, or even coherency, this is not the place.

Prologue 

Approximately a year following the concluding scene of Pirates of the Caribbean (and what a scene it was!) Jack wandered back into Port Royal.  He made a habit of keeping up with old acquaintances, and Will and Elizabeth qualified.  Unfortunately, keeping up with old acquaintances often meant keeping up with old enemies as well.  Norrington qualified for that, and it wasn't long before he got word that That Pirate was back in town.  And naturally his thoughts reverted towards the gallows.  Now, Will and Elizabeth weren't exactly eager to see Jack hang, and, quite naturally, neither was Jack.  And so they were all intent on getting Jack out of town.  And, as some writer somewhere—it escapes me who—once wrote: thereby hangs the tale.

Or it would, except that the tale doesn't hang there.  Because that tale has been told 700 times, give or take 1,000, and it seems doubtful that anyone is _really_ eager to hear it again.  But supposing Jack fled into a randomly placed cornfield, followed by Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, Gillette, and an unspecified number of soldiers and pirates?  That's somewhat more unique.  Especially when it happens to be a cornfield in which…_strange_ things happen.

And _thereby _hangs the tale.

Chapter the First 

It was late afternoon when Norrington first heard that Jack was in town.  He gathered together Gillette and an unspecified number of soldiers, and marched off for Will and Elizabeth's house.  He failed to take into account that he was attempting to capture _Captain Jack Sparrow_, who happened to be a master of quick escapes and split-second timing.  So as Norrington, Gillette, and their unspecified number of soldiers marched up the stairs at the front of the house, Jack jumped out a second story window at the back of the house.

Jack might have escaped scot-free right there.  Except for one little detail.  He landed fine.  Hit the ground just right, rolled exactly the way he was supposed to, that wasn't a problem.  Except that he dropped his hat in the process.  If he'd just ignored it and run, he probably would have been out of sight and gone long before Norrington got to the window, leaving the Commodore with no trail.  From there it would have been simple to hightail it back to the _Pearl_ and set sail.  But of course, he didn't ignore it.  And he still might have made it if not for the dog.  It might have been the same one from the jail cell, and then again it might have been that one's brother, but either way there was a dog and it liked this strange three-cornered object that had just dropped into its life.  All of which explains why Jack was still in the courtyard arguing with a dog over legal property rights to hats when Norrington looked out the window.

Seeing the Commodore and hearing the shouts of "After him!"  Jack bowed deeply, yanked his hat away from the dog (who howled broken-heartedly), clapped it on his head, and ran.

Norrington, Gillette, and the unspecified number of soldiers gave chase.  Port Royal had never seen the like of it.  Laundry was trampled, chickens were stepped on, carts were overturned, and some disgruntled citizen threw a tomato at Norrington.  Wiping seeds out of his eyes, Norrington continued chasing after the fleeing Jack, all the way to the outskirts of town.  Where Jack disappeared into a conveniently placed cornfield.  Norrington called a halt.

"But sir, he'll get away!" Gillette protested.

Norrington shook his head.  "On the contrary, Mr. Gillette.  If we were to follow, we would all become hopelessly lost within the rows of corn.  He could double-back along a path two rows over, and we would never know it.  Better to surround the fields and wait for him to stumble out."

"But what if he doesn't come out?" Gillette pointed out.

"He'll have to come out for food."

"He could eat corn," one of the unspecified number of soldiers muttered.

"Man cannot live by corn alone," Norrington said calmly.  "Spread out and surround the field."

And so they did.  And so began a several hour siege.  We could follow Jack during those hours, except that the pirate captain spent most of them sprawled under a stand of corn, hat over his face, sound asleep.  His adventures would begin after dark.  Better to check on Norrington in the late afternoon, just as dusk was setting in.  It was then that he noticed the dot on the horizon.  He squinted at it.  No, not on the horizon, _above_ the horizon.

He pointed it out to Gillette.  "Mr. Gillette, what is that?"

Gillette raised his spyglass, and looked out towards the growing dot in the sky.  A long moment passed.

"Well?" Norrington said crisply.

"It…seems to be an elephant…sir."

"Mr. Gillette!" Norrington said sharply.  "Have you been drinking on duty?"

Gillette shook his head, eye still glued to the spyglass.  "No, sir!  It's an elephant.  With wings."

"And I suppose it's _pink_ too," Norrington said, disgusted.

Gillette turned to look at him, surprised.  "How did _you_ know, sir?"

"Oh, give me that!" Norrington snapped, taking the spyglass.  He raised it to his eye, and peered out.

He very nearly dropped the glass.  Because what he saw was an elephant.  A pink one.  With wings.  And it was approaching rapidly.  Norrington lowered the glass, and found that he didn't really need it.  The elephant was getting close.  And bearing down on him.  And it didn't look as though it was going to stop.

Norrington had occasionally planned what he would do if this situation arose.  Though usually he had imagined a cannon ball coming in, rather than a pink elephant (with wings).  He had always planned to say something along the lines of "Seek shelter in the nearest available locale at once!" or, if the situation warranted, "Stand your ground, men!"  but now that the crisis was upon him, only one word entered his head and only one exited his mouth.

"HELP."

If he'd meant "Stand your ground," it lost something in the translation.  If the goal had been "seek shelter" etc., it was fairly effective.  Which Norrington noted in passing as he ran after the fleeing Gillette, chance, not deliberate intent, putting him at the back.

Norrington could run quite fast.

Unfortunately for him, the elephant could fly faster.

The next thing anybody knew, a flying pink elephant had landed on Commodore Norrington.

Gillette stopped running.  We can hope it was because he saw his commanding officer's plight and felt the stirring of noble duty urging him to lend assistance.  Or it may have been because he was up to a wall and there was nowhere else to run.  He turned, and nervously looked at the pink elephant.

"Uh…good elephant, nice elephant," Gillette said weakly.  "You don't _really_ want to hurt anyone…right?"

"Get it OFF!" Norrington's muffled shout came.

"Um…fly away elephant."  Gillette waved his hands feebly, more or less in imitation of a bird's wings.  "Fly away…flap, flap?"

All in all, it wasn't the most auspicious meeting with a new lifeform on record.  It did seem to get the idea across though.  With a great heave the elephant rose up, flapped its wings once, and took off.  Gillette watched for a moment as the elephant faded to a pink dot in the distance.  It was never seen again.  Then he turned to Norrington, who remained sprawled face-down on the ground.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Norrington raised his head and gave Gillette a withering look.  "You ask me if I'm _all right_?  An _elephant_ just landed on me!"

Meanwhile, Will and Elizabeth had not been entirely idle.  They had followed the chase scene earlier, and knew that Jack had vanished into the cornfield.  Consequently, shortly after dark fell (and therefore shortly after the elephant flew in, landed on Norrington, and left; also more than an hour after Jack woke up) they snuck past two of Norrington's guards and entered the cornfield to hunt for Jack.

They advanced cautiously down a row of cornstalks, peering through the gloom.  All was silent.  For a moment.  And then a body came crashing through the cornstalks on their left, to sprawl on the ground a few yards in front of them.

The body shifted.  "Ouch."

Will looked closer, noting the unruly black hair and the long red coat.  "Jack?"

The pirate captain leaped to his feet and whirled fully around, throwing a couple of punches that landed on nothing, apparently expecting attacks from any—or all—sides.  His eyes finally landed on Will and Elizabeth, and he relaxed.  "Oh.  You."

"You seem a little tense," Elizabeth observed.

Jack looked around him, looking haunted.  "This is a mighty strange place we're in, luv."

Will blinked.  "It's a cornfield, Jack."

Jack shrugged elaborately.  "All I can say is…"  He paused, looked around as though expecting spies, then leaned in and said in a confidential whisper, "_Beware of low-flying salad bowls_."

Will and Elizabeth stared at him.  Jack stared back, deadly serious.  A long moment passed.

Elizabeth coughed slightly.  "Um, Jack, are you feeling very well?"

"Considering he just told us to…beware of low-flying salad dishes…"  Will looked at him speculatively.

Elizabeth frowned.  "He does look a little feverish."

"He looks a little drunk," Will said dryly.  "How much rum have you been drinking, Jack?"

"I'm not _drunk_!" the pirate captain yelped, perhaps with undue indignation, considering how often he _was_ drunk.  "I haven't had any rum in…"  He began counting on his fingers.  "One, two…five, six…eight, nine.  _Nine_!" he said, holding up eight fingers.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise.  "Nine days?  I'm impressed."

Jack shifted from foot to foot, looking faintly guilty.  "Well, actually, ah, more like…nine _hours_.  But I'm completely sober!"

Will looked at him doubtfully.  "So we're supposed to believe you that at any moment we may be struck by a low-flying salad—"

He was interrupted by a flourish of music from no apparent source.  It was accompanied by a somewhat squeaky voice, proclaiming, "Look!  Up in the sky!  It's a cup!  It's a plate!  It's…_Superbowl_!"

"_Hit the deck_!" Jack roared, crashing into Will and Elizabeth, sending all three of them to the ground.

They looked up to see a wooden bowl fly overhead and hover there, trailing a red cape behind.  It seemed to be accompanied by a swarm of small plates.

The squeaky voice continued.  "Yes, Superbowl!  Strange visitor from another kitchen, come to your house with powers and abilities far beyond those of ordinary cooking utensils!  Faster than a speeding blender!  More powerful than a dishwasher!  Able to toss great salads in a single spin!  And, disguised as Tupperware, mild-mannered salad bowl for your local housewife, he fights a never-ending battle for truth!  Justice!  And the culinary way!"

The music flourished once, the bowl and saucers flew off, and silence fell on the cornfield.

Elizabeth stared after the retreating bowl and saucers as the three of them got to their feet.  "Was that…?"

"A low-flying salad bowl?" Jack nodded.  "Yes."

"Accompanied by flying saucers…" Will murmured.

"I told you.  This is a mighty strange place we're in."

"You make a very good point," Elizabeth acknowledged.

"Thank ye, luv.  And I'm gettin' meself outta here."

"Jack, you can't.  Norrington's out there with Gillette and an unspecified number of soldiers," Will pointed out.  "They'll hang you."

"Between the salad bowl and Norrington, I'll take Norrington," Jack said firmly.

Jack started striding down the row, presumably with the intent of finding the way out.  He was abruptly halted when the cornstalks parted on his right and someone stepped out.

The someone wasn't a pirate, and he wasn't a soldier.  He might have been a blacksmith, but then again he might have been a librarian.  Or anything in between.  He was, all in all, plain and ordinary, appearing all the more plain and ordinary standing next to Jack.  The only distinguishing feature about him was the small dish and accompanying bonsai tree he was carrying.

The man regarded Jack.  "Are you Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack eyed him suspiciously.  "Maybe."  He shrugged.  "Probably.  The odds are good."

The man studied him, then nodded.  "Good.  I want you to have this."

He handed the bonsai to the admittedly-confused Jack, bowed slightly, and walked away.

Jack looked at the plant.  Then he looked at the departing man.  "Wait!  Who are you?  Come bac—_This isn't my tree_!" he shouted after him, and was ignored.  Jack looked around.  "This isn't my tree," he said plaintively.  He looked at Will and Elizabeth, and held out the bonsai.  "Would you like a tree?

I believe that's sufficient for one dose of randomness.  Tune in again for the continuing adventures of Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Norrington, and, of course, the tree.  And in the meantime, review please!  I live on them.

Today's Trivia: Anybody care to try and name the Johnny Depp line Jack used in this chapter?  I'll give you…nothing if you get it right, I have nothing, but I'll be impressed!  (And Cate, you can't make a guess for obvious reasons!)


	2. Whales and Mattresses

Disclaimer: POTC is owned by someone.  Not me.  But I bet I'd appreciate it more! 

Another wildly random chapter.  And I do mean _random_.  Some credit must, as always, go to my dear friends.  The random shriek in the cornfield (read on) is a word invented by my friend Panda, and we can pretty much blame the situation of Will being eaten on Cate.  Confused?  Keep reading then! : )

Oh yes, Congratulations to Julia Rose who spotted our Johnny Depp quote!  [applauds]  Good luck on this chapter's random reference, and random quote! Chapter the Second 

Jack, Will, Elizabeth and the bonsai walked through the cornfield.  Not that the tree walked, because it didn't.  Walk, you know.  It was carried.  Specifically by Jack, who continued protesting that it wasn't his tree.  Everyone else walked.  Until they came upon a harpoon.

Jack handed the bonsai to Elizabeth and picked up the harpoon.  He examined it minutely for upwards of three minutes.  "I think it's a harpoon," Jack finally concluded.

"I think you're right," Will agreed, slightly amused and slightly annoyed at Jack's lengthy deliberation to arrive at this conclusion.

"Though it seems to be made of some sponge-like substance," Jack mused.  For the twenty-first century readers, it seems reasonable to put in that it was really rather similar in substance to a Nerf football.  Not that Jack would know about Nerf footballs.  "

"So…what should I _do_ with the harpoon?" Jack asked.

"I believe most people throw them at whales," Will said dryly.

Jack shrugged.  "Okay."  And then he threw the harpoon.

Will blinked.  "Jack, we're in a cornfield.  There's no—"

A cry rent the still night air.  "HAHUWAGGA!!"

Jack put a hand to his ear.  "Was that a whale?  I think that was a whale.  Did anyone else hear a whale?"

"Jack, how can you possibly identify a whale by _sound_?" Will asked, clearly in doubt of the pirate captain's abilities in that regard. 

Jack laid a hand on his chest.  "After many years of sailing the briny deep, one learns the calls of the sea creatures."

"Perhaps, but I really doubt that whales are likely to shriek 'HAHUWAGGA!!' to the skies," Will pointed out, calmly enough except for the shout in the middle.  Elizabeth looked at him funny due to that middle section of the sentence.  You know.  The HAHUWAGGA part.

"Not at all!"  Jack waxed poetic.  "Many times while out sailing, water all around as far as the eye can see, I have heard the song of the whales, as they shriek their call of 'HAHUWAGGA!!' to the stars above…"  He shrugged.  "Or else I just took a guess that it was a whale.  What else would be shouting 'HAHUWAGGA!!' anyway?"

Elizabeth stared at them, and shook her head.  "You're both crazy."

Meanwhile elsewhere in the cornfield, a Nerf harpoon had just hit Commodore Norrington.

But back with Jack, Will and Elizabeth.  And the bonsai, of course.  They continued walking.  Judging by position of the stars, they'd been walking for upwards of an hour.  (Jack apparently knew something about navigating by the stars, and therefore about telling time by them, and that seemed more likely than his knowledge of the calls of sea creature.  Though he didn't seem to know enough to be able to navigate by them on land.)  The cornfield just wasn't that big.  They were obviously going in circles.  Jack suggested that they split up.  It would be easy to divide the group: they'd simply do it evenly.  Will and Elizabeth would go one direction, Jack and the bonsai would go another.

Such was the plan, and such was what they did.  Will and Elizabeth went one way, Jack and the bonsai the opposite.  This continued for slightly more than twenty minutes, with nothing happening.

And then, after slightly more than twenty minutes, something happened.

Will and Elizabeth jumped back as a giant, boxy form fell through the corn on their left and hit the ground with a thump.  They stared at it.

"I…think it's a mattress," Will ventured.

"Why is there a mattress in a cornfield?" Elizabeth asked.

"Why is there a salad bowl?" Will countered.  "With a cape?"

"Good question.  Jack's right.  It's a strange place."

Will nodded absently, walking up to the mattress and poking it with his foot.

"Will, be careful," Elizabeth warned.

Will shrugged.  "It's a mattress.  What it's going to do to me?  Though knowing this place, it might be some kind of psycho killer mattress that eats people ali—"

At that moment the mattress opened and swallowed Will Turner.

Elizabeth stared at the mattress, frozen.  "Will?" she whispered.

The mattress made a sound remarkably like a burp.

"_Will_!"

There was no further response.

Elizabeth stood there, heart hammering, unsure what to do.  Fighting with undead pirates was one thing, fighting with a carnivorous mattress was another thing entirely, and she was at something of a loss.  She considered shouting Will's name again, but had to admit that it probably wouldn't help.  In fact, there was probably only one thing she could shout, one thing in all the world that had any likelihood of helping.  "JACK!!"

The cornstalks parted and Jack's head emerged.  "You hollered?"

Elizabeth pointed at the mattress.  "A mattress just ate my _husband_!"

Jack blinked.  "A mattress ate the whelp?  Really?"

"Don't just stand there!  _Do_ something!"

Jack eyed the mattress uncomfortably.  "Um…I have a funny feeling it doesn't like me."

Elizabeth threw up her hands.  "A mattress is digesting Will and you're worried about the mattress' _company preferences_?"

Jack shrugged.  "All right, all right.  Here.  Hold the tree."  Once the bonsai was given to Elizabeth, Jack approached the mattress.  He frowned at it.  "Open.  Sesame?"

No response.

Jack kicked the mattress.  "Come on.  _Open_!"

It didn't.  Desperate measures were required.

Jack jumped up and down on the mattress.  "Release the whelp!  My whelp!  Not your whelp!"  Somewhere in the middle of his bouncing, Jack lost his footing.  "Whoops."  Jack's feet went out from under him and he flopped face-down on the mattress.  He bounced once.  From this new vantage point, he noticed the zipper on one side of the mattress.  He yanked the zipper down, and stuck his head in.  "Whelp?  You in there?"

And before anyone could so much as blink, the mattress swallowed Captain Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth looked at the mattress, then looked at the tree.  "I don't think this is good," she told it.

Actually, in a strange sort of way, it was.  The mattress shivered, turned green, and spat Jack out.  The pirate had one hand clapped to his hat and the other one attached to Will's wrist.  It took a few yanks, once Jack was out, to pull Will out as well, but Jack managed it.  Both men were somewhat the worse for wear, with bits of cotton stuffing sticking to them.

Jack looked at the mattress with a superior expression.  "I told you.  My whelp."

Elizabeth pushed the bonsai at Jack and hurried to hug Will, who was looking somewhat dazed.

"That was…very strange," Will said faintly.

"Could've been worse, mate," Jack said matter-of-factly.  "We could've been sucked into the fiery pits of Hell."

Will and Elizabeth stared at him for a moment, then decided to ignore that.

"Why did it spit you out, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, purely out of curiosity.  And it didn't really make a lot of sense.

"I taste bad," Jack said simply.  Seeing their blank looks, he shrugged.  "It's the eyeliner."

The words were barely finished being said when a man appeared in front of Jack.  Not that there was any connection.  They just happened to be simultaneous.  Anyway, a man appeared.  He didn't look like a pirate, and he didn't look like a soldier, and he really didn't look like anyone else from Port Royal.  Blue jeans, a sweatshirt, sneakers.  Jack, Will and Elizabeth stared at him.

"Mind if I cut in?  I'll just be a minute."

Jack looked at him, confused.  "Where did you come from?"

"I was watching from behind the cameras," the man said briskly.

"Cameras?"

"And I had to commend you on your superb acting."

"Acting?"

"I have never seen anyone be eaten by a mattress with such grace, such form!  Such _emotion_!" the man raved.

 Jack stared at him.  "What?"

"Really, an incredible acting job, Johnny!"

Jack backed up and flung his arms out, swaying as though caught in a high wind or an earthquake.  "WOW, _wow_, wow, I'm sensing confusion here!  Let's get this straight."  He laid a hand on his chest.  "The name's _Jack_.  _Captain Jack Sparrow_.  Jack _is_ short for John.  So is Johnny.  But no one calls me Johnny."  He leaned forward, menacingly.  "_No one_."  He considered.  "Well, except my mother."

The man grinned.  "Sure, Johnny.  Always in character, aren't you?"

Jack frowned at him.  "Alright, I've got three questions for you."  He held up a finger.  "One: who are you?"  He held up a second finger.  "Two: do you know a way out of this bloody cornfield?"  He held up a third finger.  "And three…"  He held up the bonsai.  "Would you like a tree?"

The man laughed.  "Beautiful, Johnny, beautiful.  You just keep up the good work, I gotta run."  He took two steps forward and vanished.

Jack stared at the spot where the man had been.  "What was that?  Who was that?" he asked wildly.  "One second I'm being eaten by a mattress, and the next a second a guy jumps out and is shouting 'BRILL-iant!' at me!"

To which questions Will and Elizabeth had no answers.

~~~***~~~

Reviewer Replies:

Silverfang: What has Jack gotten himself into?  A cornfield, of course!  Lol, just kidding, I know what you mean.  He's gotten himself into…the imagination of a girl with too much stress and a penchant for random stories.  Which isn't quite what you meant either, but which is entirely true.

Julia Rose: [looks suspicious] Are you sure you're not Cate?  Between the "meh," the "funny ol' world, innit?" and the random Jack trivia, you sound a lot like her…but she swears you aren't, so you aren't.  Anyway, congratulations on knowing the random trivia!  I would give you something, but I have nothing to give…no prizes that can be awarded via the internet anyway. 

Purple Stain: I really hope you didn't read _this_ chapter while eating, or while in Algebra class…I told you that was a bad idea last time. : )

Skimbleshanks: Coherency later?  No…probably not.

Whatshername: Ah yes…the flying pink elephant…and you said it had dubious beginnings.  I feel vindicated, lol.

Red Tabby Tigress: Yes…very insane.

Mallory: I knew that.  But thank you!

Hanakin: And as stated…insane.

That's all for now.  Much more to come!


	3. Monty Python and Muppets

Disclaimer: POTC is not mine.  But it's not yours either.  So there.

Look!  More randomness!  

Oh yes, and as to the Johnny Depp line last chapter, the quote was extremely, extremely obscure.  Only completely rabid fans would recognize it.  *coughcatecough*  Anyway, the quote was "BRILL-iant" from…from…uh-oh.  I forgot the movie.  Cate!  Well, anyway, that was the quote.  Don't think anyone got it (with the possible exception of Echidnite, with the one-word review of "Brilliant!")  Also, the mattress was reminiscent of when Johnny Depp was eaten by a mattress in "Nightmare on Elm's Street."  And there's another quote in this chapter.  Paraphrased, I admit, but if you know the reference I think you can get it…

Anyway, onward!

Chapter the Third

As you will recall from the last chapter, Jack, Will and Elizabeth were left with a lot of questions.  This was not all they were left with.  They were also left with a mattress.

"So…what are we going to do with the mattress?" Elizabeth asked, eyeing it uncomfortably.

Jack considered.  He studied the mattress thoughtfully for a long moment, then asked the question that was simply begging to be asked.  He held up the bonsai.  "Would you like a tree?"

"You're going to give the bonsai to the mattress?" Elizabeth said incredulously.

Jack shrugged extensively.  "It looks lonely."

"It _ate_ you and Will!"

"Well, yes, that's true," Jack acknowledged, "but we shouldn't discriminate based on diet preferences."

"I don't believe this," Elizabeth muttered.

"Anyway, it doesn't look like it wants a tree," Jack concluded.

Not only did the mattress appear uninterested in the tree, it appeared uninterested in them too.  In fact, it was leaving.  Rapidly.  And while it's difficult to explain how exactly a mattress can run, it was doing it rather well.

            "Good riddance," Will muttered.  "Maybe things'll settle down a little now…"

Famous last words.

They had barely begun their wandering through the cornfield again when there was a flourish, and the squeaky voice was back.  "Able to change the course of mighty banquets!  Able to bend steel knives with sheer will power!  Look!  Up in the sky!—"

"We've heard it," Elizabeth said bluntly.

The squeaky voice changed tack, and continued unperturbed.  "The salad bowl is not picky, _nor_ is it tasty.  But it _is_ powerful!  _All hail the salad bowl_!"

Will frowned.  "What?"

Jack looked at the bowl, looked at the plant in his hands, then looked back at the bowl.  He held out the bonsai.  "Would _you_ like a tree?"

"The Superbowl has no time for trees!  He must sally forth to protect the lettuce of the world!"

Sallying forth apparently involved flying straight towards Jack, Will and Elizabeth.

"_Hit the deck_!" Jack roared, crashing into Will and Elizabeth, somehow hanging onto the bonsai as well.

The Superbowl and accompanying flying saucers whizzed by overhead.  Jack, Will and Elizabeth slowly pulled themselves back to standing positions.

Jack was having a thought.  "Does anyone else have the feeling that that's a very wealthy salad bowl?"

Will and Elizabeth stared at him.  "No…somehow that thought just hadn't entered my mind, Jack," Elizabeth drawled.  "What leads you to that conclusion?"

Jack shrugged.  "It's not attacking for profit.  This is ritual."

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Will said to the world in general.

"S'okay, whelp," Jack said, clapping Will on the shoulder.  "We can't all understand the deep mental workings of salad bowls."  That said, he continued jauntily along down the row of corn, leaving Will and Elizabeth to follow in his wake.

It was almost an hour before anything really interesting happened.  And because it would make a very boring story to write about the hour in which nothing happened, we won't.  We'll just skip on ahead an hour, to the moment when the man appeared between the rows of corn.  This man is not to be confused with the one who gave Jack the bonsai, or the one who had raved about Johnny's…er, Jack's performance.  Not that this one looked like he belonged in Port Royal any more than the last few had.  This one, in fact, was vaguely reminiscent of King Arthur.  Though he didn't look like King Arthur…more like a very lowly servant somewhere in the boonies of Camelot perhaps…provided one even managed to be reminded of Arthur to begin with.  In any case, a man definitely appeared from between the corn.

The man looked at them.  They looked back.  The man spoke first.

"Hello.  I am a shrubber.  Roger the shrubber.  I grow shrubberies."

Jack blinked.  "Hello.  I'm a pirate."  He shrugged.  "Jack…the pirate.  I…pillage.  And plunder.  And rifle and loot, and kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.  And extort and pilfer and filch and sack.  And maraud and embezzle.  Even hijack."

"Maybe we _should_ let Norrington arrest him," Elizabeth said thoughtfully.

Will looked at her, shocked.  "Elizabeth!"

"Kidding.  Only kidding."

Jack was continuing oblivious.  "And kindle and char and enflame and ignite.  I burn up cities.  Really, I'm a fright.  And a beggar and a blighter and a ne'er do well cad.  Although my mother loves me.  I'm also a rascal and a scoundrel and a villain and a knave.  A devil, and a black sheep.  All in all…"  Jack smiled blissfully.  "I'm a _really_ bad egg."

Roger the shrubber nodded.  "That's nice."

"Not very," Jack disagreed.  "That's the point."

"You also have a shrubbery," Roger the shrubber observed.

Jack glanced at the bonsai.  "It's a tree."

"A shrubbery," Roger the shrubber countered.

"A tree."

"Shrubbery."

"Tree."

"Shrubbery."

"Tree."

"Shrubbery."

"Tree."

"Shrubbery."

"Shrubbery."

"Tre—"  Roger the shrubbery broke off.  "You cheated!"

Jack shrugged.  "_Pirate_."

"More importantly, you have a plant.  As shrubber, it is my duty to see that all plants and shrubberies are properly cared for."

"That's…noble," Jack said dubiously.

"That shrubbery—"

"Tree."

"—_shrubbery_ needs to be in the proper hands.  Are _yours_ the proper hands?" Roger the shrubber asked.

Jack glanced at his hands.  "Uh…what?"

"_My_ shrubbery," Roger the shrubber said, snatched the bonsai, and ran off down the row of corn.

"Hey!  Wait—you—come—you stole my _tree_!" Jack shouted after him, sounding not unlike Annamaria.  "He stole my tree!" he said plaintively to Will and Elizabeth.

"I thought it wasn't your tree," Will reminded him.

"It isn't my tree," Jack said hastily.  "But I, well, I…I kind of got attached to it!  It's a nice little tree, and nobody wanted him, and—"

"Him?" Elizabeth repeated.

Jack shrugged.  "I named it Hector."

"_Hector_…"

"Well, yeah, because…never mind why, I've got to go catch the shrubber."  And with that Jack set off down the row, leaving the slightly confuzzed Will and Elizabeth behind him.

Will and Elizabeth continued on down the corn.  What else were they going to do?  It wasn't long for them before something else happened.  And, interestingly enough, it happened in the form of a man emerging between the corn.  This one appeared to belong to Port Royal more than the last few had, though actually he looked like he'd fit in better in Tortuga.  You see, it was Jack.  And while it hadn't seemed like a long time since they'd last seen him to Will and Elizabeth, by virtue of things happening it seemed to have been rather a long time for Jack.

The cornstalks parted, and Jack staggered out, hat askew, bonsai under one arm.  He squinted at Will and Elizabeth, then squinted again to make sure he was identifying them correctly.  "You."

"Hello, Jack," Will said.  "You look a little…worse for wear."

Jack slung an arm around Will's shoulder.  "Willie-Will-Will-Will, Willie-Will-Will."

Will blinked at him.  "Um."

"Ye've always been good to me, Will, an' so I want to warn ye."  Jack paused dramatically.  "_Beware_—"

"—of the low-flying salad bowl," Elizabeth interrupted.  "We know."

"NO!" Jack said, sounding strangely like Barbossa, then blinked and said, "Well, yes.  But also—_beware of running with scissors_!  Or any other sharp pointy objects!  It's all fun and games until someone loses an—AIEEE!"

Jack flung the bonsai out (which was caught by a startled Elizabeth) as he fell face forward.  He hit the ground with a thunk, as the salad bowl flew through, the squeaky voice loudly proclaiming Superbowl's intention to protect the culinary way.

Elizabeth bent over Jack, while Will watched, strangely uncomfortable.

"Do you have the feeling we should be fleeing?" Will asked.

Elizabeth stared at him.  "No."

"Oh."  Will shrugged.  "Never mind then."

They managed to get Jack awake without too much difficulty.  And once awake, the pirate captain was doubly adamant about leaving the cornfield.

"This is a strange place," Jack said firmly, straightening his hat.  "A place where crazy shrubbers steal people's trees, where crazy bowls go on the attack, where crazy mattresses eat people…no thanks, this is no place for me.  Better Norrington than this.  At least I know where I stand with _him_."

"Yes.  On the _gallows_," Elizabeth snapped.

"Slightly more stable ground than here, luv."

"Until the trap door falls!"

"Well…I'll worry about that when I come to it," Jack decided, and continued through the corn.

It turned out that they were quite near the edge of the cornfield.  Within a matter of moments they emerged from the shadowed darkness of the cornfield into the moonlit dimness of the adjoining field of grass.  And as though it had been planned, Norrington chanced to be nearby.

The commodore was quick to draw his sword.  "You're under arrest."

[ominous music]  More soon!

~~~***~~~

Replies:

Beth: Thank ye, mate! [bows]

Skimbleshanks: Tasteful?  Ye wanna elaborate on that a little, mate?  'Cause frankly I've no idea what ye mean…but I think it's a compliment.  So thank ye!

Cori Chaning: You think it's scary that this is like a conversation with your friends?  Consider this: this whole thing is being invented via conversations with MY friends!  : )

Drizztranger: I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, but…BREATHE!

Ad G: Camels…now there's a possibility.  I'll consider that…

Arien Star: Stomach pains due to laughter seem to be common complaints…I get those myself quite often.

Pretty Kitty3: Look!  [points] Continuing! : )

Aikou: Yep, that's the quote.  [applauds]

Creejak: Funky dingo dance?  Snicker…  And while the quote wasn't "It's the eyeliner," that would be REALLY funny…

Nancing Nobody: Random is fun…and turkey?

Whatshername: Yes, POOR Norry…and believe me, his problems are not yet over…hehe.

Purple Stain: Y'know…I don't think people generally keel over and die while doing homework (maybe term papers) so I don't think you fooled Mr. Reel…but we can hope.

Wedge: You saw POTC!  *applauds*  Glad you enjoyed!

Echidnite: Now…were you saying "brilliant," or was that your quote guess?  I'm guessing you were just trying to say that it was brilliant…if you were guessing, congratulations!


	4. Commodore Norrington

Disclaimer: Jack isn't mine.  Neither are Will and Elizabeth.  Nor is Norrington.  I don't even own the cornfield.  I own absolutely nothing.  I also am currently out of amusing disclaimers.

Greetings all!  Another round of randomness brought to you care of Tavia and her completely insane friends.

First order of business: The quote from chapter two ("BRILL-iant!") was from _Ed Wood_.  Thank you, Cate, and congrats to Thalial for guessing where it was from.

Second order of business: Chapter three's quote was a paraphrase of "This ain't killing for profit.  This is ritual" which is from _From Hell_.  (wow, that's an awkward sentence…from From.)  Congratulations (again) to Thalial for knowing that!  I have no prizes to give, except a round of applause.  [Clapclapclapclapclapclap]   Acknowledgement also to Creejak and Skimbleshanks who made some good guesses.

Third order of business: There's another Johnny Depp quote in this chapter.  (Clarification: POTC quotes don't count.)  I invite you to hunt painstakingly for it, carefully examining every Jack line…or not, whichever.  Anyway, it's there.  Another slight paraphrase, but I think this one might actually be easier than some of the others…more recent movie, anyway.

Okay, enough order.  Onto the randomness!

Chapter the Fourth

Jack was having a thought.  "Y'know…at least the salad bowl is nonfatal."

Norrington blinked.  "What?"

Elizabeth groaned.  "You changed your mind?  All that, and now you've _changed your mind_?"

Jack shrugged elaborately.

"A little late now," Will muttered.

Jack shrugged again.  "Well, faced with the actual fact of dealing with bloody Norrington—"

"Bloody Norrington?"  Norrington was insulted.  "I am merely carrying out my duty as a commodore of the Royal British Navy, and—"

"I thought it was the British Royal Navy," Jack interrupted.

"It's the Royal British Navy," Norrington said firmly.

"I thought it was the British Royal Navy."

"It's the Royal British Navy!" Norrington snapped.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!"  Norrington took a deep breath.  "Now.  I am carrying out my duty.  I am not bloody—"

"You want to hang me.  That seems rather bloody from where I'm standing."  Jack frowned.  "And kind of strange too…I'm havin' another thought."

"Wonderful," Norrington muttered.

"Now see here, Commodore," Jack said jauntily, hands elaborately gesturing, "I want to know something.  What I want to know is…what is _with_ you?"

Norrington blinked, looking mildly affronted.  "I beg your pardon?"

"What is this obsession with huntin' me down and hangin' me?  It ain't healthy.  Sign of a diseased mind.  And furthermore," Jack continued, "why are ye even botherin' to hunt me down, when ye let me go before?  You let me sail off once, but now you're after me?  Doesn't make a lot of—"

"Jack, stop," Will interrupted hastily, appearing alarmed.

Jack shot him half a look.  "I just want to know why it is he's after my neck, I've got a right to know that, haven't I?  Especially when it's inconsis—"

"Jack, I said, _stop_!"

Jack shot him a full look.  "I'm just asking!  Because it's not in order with—"

"Jack, _shut up_!"

Jack positively reeled.  He stared at Will, shocked.  "I'm _Captain Jack Sparrow_.  And a _blacksmith_ just told me to—"  He looked around somewhat wildly.  "He just told me to—"   His gaze landed on Elizabeth.  "Your _husband_ just told me to _shut up_!  I'm _Captain Jack Sparrow_!  I don't have to stand for this!"

Will sighed.  "Jack…"

"You keep your mouth shut!" Jack ordered, and turned his attention back to Norrington, though from the furious expression on his face he wasn't quite done with Will.  "Now, Commodore, _I just want to know_—"

"Jack!"

"I'm not speaking to you," Jack said icily.

Will threw up his hands.  "You want to talk to him?" he asked Elizabeth.  "He likes you—"  He stopped.  "On second thought, I'll talk to him.  Now, Jack…"

Jack didn't say anything.  Just glared.  And a glare from Captain Jack Sparrow is a powerful thing.

Will forged ahead anyway.  "Don't you realize what you're doing?  You're pointing out the fatal flaw in the story.  If you finish asking that, you'll send the whole plotline tumbling down around our ears!"

Jack considered.  "By the powers, yer right!"  If he noticed that he was quoting Barbossa, he didn't comment on the fact.  He slung an arm over Will's shoulder.  "Y'know what?  For a blacksmith, yer not so bad after all!"

"Thanks," Will said dubiously.

"But I'd watch what ye say," Jack advised.  "Loose lips sink ships, mate."

"Can we get back to the point?" Norrington interrupted.  "You, Jack Sparrow—"

"Captain.  _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."  Jack raised a forestalling hand.  "And I have a ship now."

"Yes, you have your boat now, don't you?" Norrington said, without a lot of enthusiasm.

It was Jack's turn to be deeply insulted.  "Boat?  _Boat_?  You call my _Pearl_ a _boat_?"

Norrington blinked.  "Well it is, isn't it?"

"_She_ is a _ship_!"

"I seem to recall hearing that you called the _Interceptor_ a boat," Norrington said, with only vague relevance but in some attempt at either defense or argument.

"That's different.  The _Interceptor_ has no soul," Jack said matter-of-factly.

Norrington blinked again.  "And…the _Black Pearl_ has a soul?"

Jack looked at him as though he had just asked if rum was necessary for life.  "_Of course_!"

Norrington frowned.  "This is _so far off topic_…"

"Doesn't bother me, does it bother you?"

"Do you really think you can talk your way out of this?" Norrington asked incredulously.

"Depends.  Do I have a fair shot at talkin' me way outta bein' hanged?"

"Hung," Will said.

Jack blinked at him.  "What?"

"Hung.  The past tense of 'hang' is 'hung.'"

"But when yer talkin' 'bout the gallows, the word ye want is 'hanged,'" Jack argued.

"I don't know, Jack.  'Hung' is grammatically correct."

"Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically, I don't care.  It's _hanged_!  Trust me.  I know about the gallows," Jack said firmly.

"That is something of which I have _no_ doubt," Norrington snapped.  "And whatever you want to call it, it's going to happen."

"Are you in a bad mood, Your Commodorship?" Jack asked politely.

It clearly was a great act of will for Norrington to keep from hitting Jack over the head with his sword.  "_Yes_.  Between the elephant and the harpoon—"

Jack's eyes positively lit up.  "Were you hit by a harpoon?"

Norrington's glare was a pretty clear answer.

"I told you," Jack informed Will.  "I hit a whale."

Will looked at Jack, then looked at Norrington, then looked at Jack again.  "Um, Jack, I don't think Norrington is a, er, whale."

"Of course he is," Jack said firmly.  "He's a _Norwhale_."

Will stared at him for a long, long moment.  And then he cracked up.

"This is ridiculous," Norrington muttered.

"I rather have to agree with you," Elizabeth put in, supporting the still-laughing Will.

Norrington frowned, pointed his sword at Jack, and finally managed to say what he had been trying to say for five minutes.  "You, Jack Sparrow, pirate, are under arrest."

Jack drew himself up indignantly and glared at Norrington.  "You have no right to arrest me!"

"I'm a commodore of the Royal British Navy."

"And I declare you null and void in my borders!"  Jack paced up and down passionately, spouting whatever came into his head.  "The authority of the navy comes from the will of the people!  I hereby withdraw that will, and therefore remove your authority.  And since I've removed your authority, you have no authority to question my authority to remove your authority.  And after all, to be or not to be is the question, whether to take arms against a sea of troubles!  Furthermore, the square root of x2 is x, and Don John should never be confused with John Donne, as opposed to John Adams, John Quincy Adams, John Marshall, John Smith, and Abraham Lincoln.  And do you realize that Mark is the shortest gospel, and that the capital of Belice is Belmopan?  And do you further realize that Mr. Spock has a last name, though few people are aware of it, four score and seven years ago, desktop publishing has nothing to do with publishing desks, and—and—and _lactic acid_!" Jack concluded triumphantly.

Everyone stared at him for a long, long moment.

"Right," Norrington said finally.  "Now, you're under arrest for—"

There was a thunk, and Norrington pitched forward to hit the ground face-first.  Superbowl whizzed by, the squeaky voice loudly announcing that if one were to look up in the sky, one would not see a knife.

"That was _wonderful_ timing," Jack proclaimed.

"Apparently the salad bowl is good for something," Elizabeth mused.

"The question becomes, what do we do _now_?"  Jack's brow furrowed in deep thought.  "I could make a break for my ship."

"I don't think so, Jack," Will disagreed, recovered from his laughing fit.  "Gillette and an unspecified number of soldiers are still out there."

"Oh yes, forgot about them."  Jack frowned.  "I guess it's back to the cornfield.  Possibly _forever_," he concluded dramatically.

"Norrington won't be out here forever," Will said.  "We know he's already had a bad encounter with a harpoon and a salad bowl."

"That's right," Elizabeth agreed.  "He's going to give the whole thing up as a bad business soon."

"Good point.  But until then…the cornfield's my beat, and I'm walking it."  With that, Jack swaggered off towards the corn.

Will and Elizabeth looked at him, looked at each other, and shrugged in unison.

"Maybe one of us should keep an eye on him," Will concluded.  "Do you want to stay and try to talk some sense into Norrington when he wakes up?"

"All right.  But be careful in there," Elizabeth said sternly.  "That's a very strange cornfield."

"I know.  And I will."  And with that Will followed Jack back into the shadowy corn.

This left Elizabeth to wait for Norrington to wake up.  Tired of standing, Elizabeth sat down on a conveniently placed davenport.

"_Get off me_!" Norrington said through gritted teeth.

"Oh!  Sorry, James."  Elizabeth quickly stood up.  "Thought you were a couch."[1]

_"What?"_

Elizabeth shrugged apologetically.  "It's dark."

"I think you've been spending too much time with That Pirate," Norrington muttered.  "You're getting daft like him."

"His name is _Jack_.  And there's nothing wrong with being daft like Jack."

Norrington's eyebrow rose.  "Right."

"I really think you'd like him.  If you got to know him, I mean.  Instead of always trying to hang him."

"He's a _pirate_."

"And a good man," Elizabeth responded immediately.

Norrington ignored that.  "I could prosecute you and young Mr. Turner for aiding and abetting piracy, and for interfering in the carrying out of justice." 

Elizabeth smiled sweetly.  "Keep in mind who my father is.  He has fits every time anyone points a gun at his little girl.  And of course, Will is part of the family now too…"

"What did I do to deserve this?" Norrington muttered.

"Absolutely nothing!  Which is why I recommend you go back to the fort and leave Jack alone.  We'll make sure he leaves.  I promise."

"I must carry out my duty," Norrington said stiffly.

Elizabeth sighed.  "I like you, James, I do.  But why must you do something so _stupid_?"

"I must carry out my duty," Norrington repeated firmly.  "Excuse me.  I am going to go find my men."

Norrington started across the field, intending to search for Gillette and the unspecified number of soldiers.  This presented his back to Elizabeth.  She sighed, hefted the rock she had picked up during her brief moment of sitting, and hit Norrington in the back of the head.  He dropped to the ground, unconscious, for the second time in ten minutes.

"I'm sorry, James, I really am," Elizabeth informed him.  "I _do_ like you.  I just happen to like you least between you, Jack and Will.  Maybe it's the hair."

A/N: He does have rather horrible hair, doesn't he?  Poor Norrington.  For the record, the Royal British Navy/British Royal Navy conversation sprang up out of personal inability to keep that straight and the hanged/hung conversation comes direct from arguments between me and Cate.  I let her side win.  And as for Jack's long speech, I did my utmost in that to reference all seven of my classes.  I succeeded.  Hence the utter randomness.  And now onto replies:

Hanakin: There's a story behind the Hector…it'll come eventually.

Cori: Monty Python will absolutely be back.

Beth: Whee!  Favorite lists!

Lightning: Chaotic and random…yep, that says it.  And the corn does become aggressive later on.

Dizzygrl: Random but not stupid.  Goal achieved.

Skimbleshanks: The song was a good guess, and on a technicality I suppose you were correct…it _is_ a Johnny Depp quote.  Just not _the_ Johnny quote, unfortunately.  New clarification put in at the beginning now.

Drizztanger: I have many cases of people suffocating.  Hmm…

Wedge: Made perfect sense.  In a nonsensical sort of way.

Homesecuritysystem: Ah, convincing parentals that their kids are nuts…my life goal.  Kidding.  And I haven't seen that much Johnny either…well, actually, that's not really true anymore after the Johnny Depp film festival at Cate's house…five movies, nine hours of Johnny…Anyway, most of these quotes I wouldn't know either, really.

Whatshername: I am delighted to brighten your day.  I've always maintained, stories need not have any purpose aside from making people laugh.  Now if I could convince the people who put together literature books of that…

Alania: A plot?  No.  Not really.  And when does Kirk say Risks are our business?  WHEN?  I've heard in passing that he does, but I've no idea when!  I stole the line off a Trek-spoof-special-thingum.  And I have kicked Trekkie Soul on your behalf…it's not responding.  But it will!  Soon!  Really!

Creejak: Yes indeed, that would be a quote from Muppet Treasure Island.  Unfortunately The Quote is defined as one said by Johnny Depp.  And I have to comment…a _funky dingo dance_?  Sounds amusing…

Silverfang: Glad you like!  And glad you saw Pirates!

Akelei: Keeping people out of bed at late hours, laughing hysterically…alas, woe is me, I'm a bad girl.  And I'd love to claim I thought deeply about the scissors in relevance to Edward Scissorhands, but…I didn't.  I merely stole the line from the Muppets and didn't catch the connection until you pointed it out.  Edward would have trouble with the whole running with scissors thing, wouldn't he?

Vest-Button: Thank you! Or gracias, whichever.

Mz Malibu Barbie: Roger the shrubber is rather enjoyable, isn't he?  And so relevant.

Thalial: Congratulations (again) on the quotes!  Obviously you are a deep Johnny fan.

Halochicky: Wince…glad you like, but watch the language please.  The tree seems to have emerged as the break out star.  Funny how that happens.

Wow, that's a lot of reviews…thank you all!  How about some more now?  : )

  


* * *

[1] If this joke leads you to think I'm completely insane…or rather, MORE insane, let me explain.  A davenport is another word for couch.  Jack Davenport played Commodore Norrington.  Basically, it's a really bad pun. : )


	5. Silence, Hosea Tisdale, and Song

Disclaimer: Jack is not mine.  Roux is.  MINE!  No, he's not in this story.  He's actually kind of irrelevant.  Except Johnny characters are never irrelevant.  I'll move on. 

Last chapter's quote: "The cornfield's my beat, and I'm walking it."  A paraphrase of Johnny's character's line, "Mexico's my beat, and I'm walking it," in _Once Upon a Time in Mexico_.  I believe Savvylicious01 was the only one to get that.  Congrats!

This chapter's quote: Yes, another one, one that I honestly think should be somewhat easier.  Not paraphrased, it's a relatively recent movie (well, last few years anyway) and a pretty major movie…so good luck all!

Now to the chapter.

Chapter the Fifth 

While Elizabeth was hitting Norrington with a rock, Jack and Will were engaged in other pursuits.  They had walked for a few minutes, until the edge of the cornfield was out of sight in the gloom.  And there they paused, to observe the activity of the cornfield.  Not that there was much to observe, as there wasn't any.  Activity, I mean.

Jack glanced around him.  "It's quiet."

"Very quiet," Will agreed.

"Silent."

"Silent as the grave."

Jack nodded absently.  "Interesting phrase, that," he mused.  "Could be taken literally, of course.  Because graves, well, graves _just don't talk_.  Or maybe it refers to the people _in_ the graves, because, well, dead people don't talk either.  Unless they're only mostly dead.  Then they might talk a little.  And then if they're undead, well, that's another matter entirely.  Though undead people usually aren't in graves.  Which brings us back to the graves being silent because, y'know, graves don't talk.  Unless, of course, there's live people _visiting_ the dead people.  They might make noise.  Though they wouldn't be _in_ the graves, of course.  And anyway, people in graveyards are usually pretty quiet.  Respect for the dead, I guess.  Unless they're actually the undead.  The undead don't get a lot of respect.  Kind of unfortunate for them.  Though they've got bigger problems."

Will was staring at him.  "Um, Jack…where are you getting all of this from?"

Jack shrugged extensively.  "I've spent a surprising amount of time thinking about that phrase."

"Riight."

Jack nodded.  "Right.  Ye wanna sit down for a minute?  I've been walkin' all night.  Aside from the brief period I spent unconscious."  Not waiting for Will's opinion on the matter, Jack sat down, leaning back against a cornstalk, legs sprawled in front of him, the bonsai carefully set down next to him.  "We might be here awhile."

Will shrugged and joined him, sitting back against a nearby cornstalk.  Not too uncomfortable, actually, though not the way he'd planned to spend the evening.  "So what were you doing back in Port Royal anyway, Jack?"

Jack looked mildly affronted.  "I was visiting old friends!"

"Well, yes, I knew that.  But couldn't we have arranged a little better?  We could have visited you."

Jack looked at him dubiously.  "Do ye really want to take Elizabeth to Tortuga?  It might give her the wrong idea about me.  Well…the right idea, but in the wrong light."

"All right, we could have met up somewhere _else_ then.  You can't tell me you didn't see this coming with Norrington."

"Well…"  Jack sighed.  "It's all Hosea Tisdale's fault."

Will blinked.  "Who?"

"Hosea Tisdale.  He was on this ship we captured, and…well, it's kind of a long story."

"We have time," Will pointed out.

"If ye insist.  It all started when…"

…when the _Black Pearl_ engaged the merchant sloop called _Mary_.  Not the most impressive of names, but the Mary was carrying pieces of eight, and gold doubloons, and silver ingots, and all the things you'd expect to find on a ship being looted by pirates.  The _Mary_ was damaged in the battle, and clearly wasn't long for this world.  The crew and the treasure were taken aboard the _Black Pearl_ before the _Mary_ sank beneath the waves.

The treasure, of course, was planned to find a permanent home aboard the Pearl.  For the crew, there were other plans.  Not that they were to be summarily shot; Jack didn't run his ship that way.  Pirates they were, barbarians they were not.  Instead the crew of the Mary was to be dropped off on the nearest inhabited isle, and were welcome to find their own way home from there.  Most of the crew, having heard chilling stories of pirate brutality, counted themselves lucky and were willing to abide by that.  There was one exception.  Hosea Tisdale, passenger, was not happy.  And announced it to the world.

"You there!  With the parrot!  Where's the captain of this brig?"  Hosea Tisdale demanded.  "I refuse to stand for this!"

"Ye could try sittin' down," Jack suggested, as Mr. Cotton obviously wasn't going to say anything in response.

Hosea Tisdale turned his attention that way.  "Which of you is the captain of this vessel?"

"I am," Jack answered, flipping a single gold coin through the air before setting it neatly atop a shining pillar he'd been stacking.  "Who are you and what do ye want?"

Hosea Tisdale drew himself up to his full height (five feet, two inches).  "Hosea Tisdale of Jamaica, tavernkeeper, and I want to be returned to Jamaica."

Jack promptly forgot all about the gold.  He leaned forward, eyes wide.  "You own a _tavern_?"

"Aye," Hosea Tisdale said proudly.  "The Dancing Raven."

Jack nodded with the keenest interes—

"Wait a minute," Will interrupted.  "The Dancing _Raven_?"

"Don't ask me, ask Hosea Tisdale.  Now do ye want to hear the story or no?" Jack asked.

"Go ahead."

"All right.  I nodded…"

…nodded with the keenest interest.  "That's interesting," he drawled, and meant it.

"I serve the finest rum in the Caribbean," Hosea Tisdale said firmly.

"You serve RUM?"  Jack might have said more, but he was concentrating on keeping his tongue in his mouth.

"Aye.  Tall mugs of it.  Specially brewed to the perfect flavor.  Deep brown with just a hint of foam, ice cold and frosty…"

"Go on, go on," Jack urged, hanging on every word.

"Serve it by the glass, by the mug, by the bottle, by the barrel…"

"By the _barrel_," Jack repeated worshipfully.

"And I've got some _old_ bottles too," Hosea Tisdale continued.

"_Do_ you?"

"Aye, years old.  _Decades_ old."

"Ah, cap'n," Gibbs interrupted, "what do ye want us to do with—"

"Not now, Mr. Gibbs," Jack said, waving him away.  "You were sayin' about the decades-old rum?"

"I've got one cache," Hosea Tisdale said conspiratorially, "way down at the bottom of my cellar."

"Yes?" Jack said with anticipation.

"The Tisdale family has been passing it down for generations.  Brought it over from England, we did.  And you know how old it is?  
"_How old_?"

"_Henry_ was king."

"_Wow._"

"Aye, there's good times in that tavern," Hosea Tisdale said sentimentally.

"Good times," Jack echoed in agreement.

"'course, when I set off to visit my daughter in Santo Domingo, I had to close The Dancing Raven up for awhile," Hosea Tisdale said sadly.

To Jack this was a catastrophe.  "No!"

"And now that it looks like I'll be gone a mite longer than planned, I guess it will just stay closed."

"That's _tragic_!" Jack said with true emotion.

"But if I got home sooner…" Hosea Tisdale said slyly.

Jack came to an immediate conclusion.  "Mr. Gibbs, set a course!  We're going to Jamaica!" he announced.

"Er, we are, Cap'n?" Gibbs said.

"Aye!  We're takin' this fine gentleman home."

Hosea Tisdale beamed.  "Now that's right friendly of you!"

"The world needs more tavernkeepers," Jack proclaimed.  "The Caribbean hasn't got so many that we can afford to leave a fine one like you at sea."

So they set sail for Jamaica.  Hosea Tisdale turned out to be from…

"…to be from Port Morant, which ye know isn't far from Port Royal.  An' after an evenin' at the Dancing Raven, I got to forgettin' about Norrington.  But I did remember that I'd like to visit me old friends Will and Elizabeth.  You're more memorable than Norrington, by the way."

"Thanks," Will said dubiously.

"Yer welcome.  So anyway, we set off for Port Royal, an' here I am.  In a cornfield.  With a tree."  Jack shrugged.  "Funny ol' world, innit?"

"Hilarious," Will said dryly.

"Ain't it though?  Well, better keep moving, eh?"  Jack rose to his feet, picked up his bonsai, and started along the row of corn, heading right."

"Wait a minute, Jack, isn't that the direction we came from?" Will protested.

Jack looked back and forth, then up and down for good measure, and concluded, "This is right."

"I don't know, we've been sitting here a long time, but I think left is right."

Jack frowned, face creasing in confusion.  "Left is right?  Isn't right usually right?  And of course, right is _never_ left."

Will stared at him.  "What?"

"We go right," Jack said firmly.

"I don't think so."

"I'm navigating by the stars!"

"The last time you did that we went in circles," Will pointed out.

Jack frowned sullenly.  "Is it _my_ fault the stars kept moving?"

"Jack…"

"What I really need is my compass," Jack decided.  "Too bad I left it on the ship."

"How could you possibly navigate your way out of a cornfield using a compass that doesn't point north?"

Jack considered.  "We-ell…you wanna walk to the Isla de Muerta?"

"Not really.  Right now I'll settle for a way out that doesn't lead to soldiers."

"Okay, we'll just head right," Jack concluded.

"Jack, I think it's left!"

"Who's the ranking officer here?" Jack demanded.

"I'm not a member of your crew."

"Therefore I outrank you.  Let's go right.  Right?"

Will sighed.  "All right."

Jack nodded.  "Right."

So they set off right.  A few minutes later they emerged from between a couple of rows of corn.  To find Elizabeth and the unconscious Norrington.

Will turned to Jack.  "Hah."

"It's the tree's fault," Jack said promptly.

"What are you doing back here?" Elizabeth asked.

"_Some_ of us mixed up left and right," Will said pointedly.

Jack ignored him.  "Norrington is still unconscious, I see."

"Well…he's unconscious," Elizabeth answered, omitting the 'still,' and pointed towards the Commodore, who was half-hidden in the grass.

Jack studied Norrington thoughtfully.  "Wasn't he over there?"  He looked at Elizabeth.  "You have moved the body?"

"I did?"

"You must _NEVER_ move the body!"

"Why not?" Elizabeth demanded.

Jack blinked.  Considered.  Thought.  "Because!"

"That's not a reason," Elizabeth protested.  "And anyway, _I_ didn't move the body, the body moved itself."

Jack blinked again.  "What?"

"Norrington woke up, walked over there, and then I whacked him with a rock," Elizabeth explained.

"Oh.  Makes perfect sense," Jack decreed.

"Right," Will said briskly.  "Now, if Norrington's still around with Gillette and an unspecified number of soldiers, we need to retreat back into the cornfield."

"And battle the Superbowl!" Jack said enthusiastically.  "And fight the evil mattress!  And match wits against the cornstalks!"

"And try our best to avoid all of that," Will put in firmly.  "Now come on."

"Should I keep watching Norrington?" Elizabeth asked doubtfully.  "He's kind of boring."

"You could go look for Jack's crew," Will suggested.

"Yes!  Go find my crew, and _they_ can battle the Superbowl!" Jack said enthusiastically.  "It wouldn't stand a chance against Annamaria."

"Probably not," Elizabeth acknowledged.  "So I'll go look for them…how do I find you after I find them though?"

"Send up a shout," Jack advised.  "Cornfield's not that big, really.  An' if we need you, we'll send up a shout."

"Not a bad plan…but how would I know whether it was you or Norrington?" Elizabeth asked.  "I wouldn't want to go traipsing through the cornfield with a lot of pirates and accidentally bump into Norrington because I thought he was you.  You look, um, somewhat different, but you sound fairly similar."

"A code word, maybe?" Will mused.

"A _song_!" Jack exclaimed.

Will looked at him.  "A song?"

"A pirate shanty!" Jack enthused.

Will continued looking at him.  "A shanty?"

"I've got just the one!"  Jack burst into song.  "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!  We extort we pilfer, we filch and sack, drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Elizabeth grinned, and joined in.  "Maraud and embezzle and even hijack!  Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Will stared at them.  They kept singing.  "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!  We're rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves, drink up me 'earties, yo ho!

We're devils, we're black sheep…"  In unison they dropped key, speed and volume to a lower level.  "…and really bad eggs.  Drink up, me 'earties…YO HO!"

"I _love_ this _song_!" Jack announced to the world.  "And really bad eggs!  Woo!"

Will was feeling a little out of it.  "Um, Elizabeth…how do you know this song?"

"Long story, dear."

"Jack, don't call me 'dear.'"

"Oh.  Sorry."

"_Anyway_…have you considered that singing that song would bring every one of the unspecified number of soldiers down on our heads?" Will pointed out.

"No plan is perfect," Jack said promptly.

"That's a major flaw in the plan, completely defeating the point."

"So you're saying it's imperfect," Jack concluded.

"Essentially," Will said shortly.  "Look, why don't we plan on going that way, and—"

"What way?" Jack asked, and pointed across the cornfield.  "That way?"

Will nodded.  "Aye, _that_ way.  What say you…"  He trailed off, and blinked.  "I have the strangest feeling of role reversal."

"It happens in cornfields," Jack said, more or less reassuringly.  "So we go that way and…?"

"And plan on coming out the other side.  Elizabeth finds the pirate crew and circles around to that same side."

"And we all wander around in the dark until we bang into each other!" Jack finished.

"Well…I wouldn't have put it that way, but yes."

"My plan's more fun."

"But Jack, it wouldn't work," Elizabeth pointed out.  "We'd probably all be caught and hanged."

"It's still more fun.  Except for that part."

"Can we come to a decision soon?  That song will be bringing soldiers running," Will said pointedly.

"Alright!" Jack declared.  "We go that way!"  He struck out with all the dignity, majesty and poise of an avenging army.

"Jack, that's the wrong way," Will said, resigned.

Jack looked around, then looked up at the stars, looked at the nearest cornstalk, and looked back at Will.  "Are you sure?"

Will grasped Jack by the arm, and pulled him off in the right direction.

"Good luck!" Elizabeth contributed, privately wondering how she had ever gotten to this position, standing out in a field in the middle of the night, wishing her husband luck as he marched into a cornfield with a pirate, who was carrying a tree.

Funny ol' world, innit?

Yes, it is.  And it's gonna stay funny, and soon as I can find time for another chapter.

And about Hosea Tisdale.  Jack's story about him is based on actual historical fact.  Our beloved Captain Jack Sparrow, you see, was based upon a historical pirate named Calico Jack (according to my Pirate-obsessed friend Cate anyway, and it seems legitimate).  According to _Under the Black Flag_ (a historical book on pirates given to me by my wonderful friend Panda), Calico Jack once arranged for the passage home of a Jamaican tavern keeper named Hosea Tisdale.  Jack…tavern keeper…a story was born.

To all reviewers: I love you all, but I don't have time to reply to each of you.  There's just too many (which is a good thing!), so I'll just send a general message that I'm delighted you enjoy the story and I hope you keep reviewing!  Just a couple quick notes on things that need a response: Skimbleshanks: Yes, Spock had a last name.  It's unpronounceable to the human tongue though, so don't ask what it is.  ChaosLightning: I know it's an anachronism.  But in a world where bowls fly and mattresses eat people, I think we can ignore that.  And, interestingly, anachronism was a vocab word just the other day…  Savvylicious01: Thank you so much for reading my original stories!  I'm glad you enjoyed them!

'Tis all.  More soon!


	6. Phantom Hats and Attack Squirrels of Dea...

Disclaimer: I love Jack dearly, but I'm afraid I don't own his copyright.  I'm sure you're sorry, and so am I.

Greetings fellow pirates!  Welcome to another round of very random POTC rambling.  But first: Obviously last chapter's quote _was_ much easier.  It was: "You have moved the body?"  "I have."  "You must NEVER move the body!" "Why not?"  "…because!" which is a quote from Sleepy Hollow, as Savvylicious01, LarndeSolen, Whatshername, JackSparrow'sGirl, Wedge, Nancing Nobody, Otherhawk, Heather68 (I assume, since she mentioned that line…), and…that's all, all successfully guessed.  Congratulations!  This chapter's quote is less distinctive, but is also from a relatively recent movie, so good luck to you all!

Wow…didn't realize how long it's been since I updated.  Sorry about that!  But I think you'll like this chapter, I enjoyed it.  Credit for inspiration must go to _Benny and Joon_ (another Johnny movie, if you are unaware), and to Whatshername, otherwise known as A Teller of Tales.  Also to my good friend Panda.  I'll explain why exactly at the end.

Chapter the Sixth

Jack and Will walked through the cornfield, more or less aiming for the far end.  Will was in the lead, as that was how they had started and neither had yet taken the trouble to change that.  It was as they walked on that Jack's hat suddenly fell off.  A small furry body had leapt out of the cornstalks and knocked his hat off.

Jack's hands went to his head.  "Me 'at!"

Will hadn't noticed the small furry body, and wasn't comprehending Jack's concern.  "So pick it up again."

"Oh.  Right.  Hold the tree."  Jack handed Hector to Will and looked around.  His hat was lying quietly in the middle of the row a few feet away.  He took a step towards it.

The hat skittered away.  Jack frowned.  He leaned forward.  The hat sidled back a few inches.  He took two quick steps towards it, the hat hastily backing up.

Jack frowned at the hat.  "Now you stop that," he said sternly.  The hat snuck back another inch.

Will, regrettably, had been looking forward along the row of corn and hadn't seen the great adventure of the moving hat.  He looked back now.  "Jack, what are you _doing_?" he asked.

"'aving an argument with me 'at."

"_What_?"

"He's tryin' to bugger off."

Will was momentarily derailed from the bigger issue.  "_He_?"

Jack looked at him as though he'd gone loopy.  "Well ye don't expect me to have a _girl_ hat, do ye?"

Will tried to process this.  "Wait a minute…"

Jack was ignoring him.  He was engaged in launching himself at his hat in something akin to a flying leap.  Jack landed face-first amongst discarded corn leaves, the hat halting mere inches beyond his outstretched hands, taunting him.

Jack raised his head and eyed his hat balefully.  He scooted forwards a ways on his stomach.  The hat rocketed back several feet.  Obviously this was getting him nowhere.

Jack tried a new tactic.  He looked at the hat with a benevolent expression.  "Can we talk about this?"

The hat appeared to consider the possibility.

Encouraged, Jack rose to his knees.  "Come on now, it's just you and me, it's just you an' ol' Jack.  I've always been good to ye, now."

The hat inched a mite closer.

"Tha's right," Jack encouraged.  "Little closer now, little closer."

The hat was thinking about it.

"Come on now," Jack crooned.  "Come on, you dirty, moth-eaten piece of cow-hide—no, no, no, no, I didn't mean it!"

The hat came to a skittering halt several feet away.

Jack glared at the hat.  "If ye think that I'm gonna dive at ye _again_, yer wrong.  I ain't stupid," he informed it.  Then he turned and began to walk away.  The hat followed him.

Jack stopped.  The hat stopped.  Jack took another step.  The hat inched forward.  Jack whirled and leaped for the hat.  The hat was caught unawares.  Jack landed with his face on the hat, his arms around the brim, and his body in the dirt.

Jack lifted his head.  "Hah."  He started to pick up his hat.

A brown furred demon with red eyes, sharp teeth, and a big tail exploded from beneath the hat.  Jack frantically clapped the hat back down, struggling to contain the squirming creature.  After several frenzied moments, all was quiet.

Jack slowly backed away from the hat, looking faintly shell-shocked.  "We need to talk," he informed it.

The brim of the hat lifted, and the demon peered out.  "Chatter chatter," the squirrel said crossly.

"Well I didn't _mean_ to squash ye.  An' anyway, you started it by stealing me 'at."

"Chatter chatter chatter!"

"It is _so_ mine!"

The squirrel looked at him craftily.  "Chatter chatter?"

Jack frowned.  "Now who carries deeds to _hats_?"

The squirrel tilted his head.  "Chatter?"

"No, I don't have a receipt either.  But it's still _mine_."

"Chatter CHATTER chatter!"

"No, it is NOT yours now!"

"CHATTER CHATTER!"

"And I'm not gravy-sucking heathen scum," Jack snapped.

"CHATTER!" the squirrel bellowed.

Jack appeared astounded.  "My mother was not a weasel!"

The squirrel hopped up and down in agitation, tiny fists flailing.  "Chatter chatter CHATTER!"

"Yeah?  Well _your_ mother was a _hamster_," Jack retorted.

The squirrel was angry.  "Chatter chatter BANZAI!"  The squirrel leapt for Jack's throat.

When the corn dust settled, Jack was flat on his back, one arm by his side and the other stretched straight upward, holding a wildly kicking squirrel off of his neck.

"And no, you can't have Hector either," Jack said calmly.

"Chatter," the squirrel snapped.

"Ye seem to have a lot of rage built up inside," Jack said conversationally.

"Chatter chatter," the squirrel said sourly.

"Ye wanna talk about it?" Jack asked.

The squirrel was surprised.  "Chatter?"

"Well o' _course_ I've got time," Jack said generously.

Will, the forgotten character off on the edge of the scene, coughed.  "Actually, we don't have a lot of time, Jack…"

"I always have time to listen to the troubles of my squirrel friends," Jack said firmly, sitting up and setting the squirrel down in front of him.  "Now, you just pour yer little furry heart out."

The squirrel did.  He chattered away for long moments, Jack listening attentively, occasionally nodding.

When the squirrel finally finished, Jack nodded understandingly.  "Now that could be tough.  Don't blame ye at all."

"_Chatter_," the squirrel said emphatically.

"_Everybody_ wants to destroy somethin' sometimes.  I been there, I know.  And with a dark secret in yer past, well, that just makes things worse."

"Chatter," the squirrel agreed.

"Y'know, to go through life with that hangin' over yer head, that would get to anybody."

"Chatter chatter," the squirrel said sorrowfully.

"Really too bad, mate, I feel for ye."

Will couldn't stand it.  "So…what's the secret?" he asked finally.

"Chatter?" the squirrel asked Jack.

"Yeah, you can tell 'im, 'e's all right.  Bit of a stick really, but alright."

"Gee, thanks," Will muttered.

The squirrel turned and addressed Will.  "Chatter chatter chatter.  Chatter chatter."  He paused, then concluded, "Chatter."

"Ain't it a shame?" Jack said sympathetically.

Will stared at both of them.  "What did he _say_?"

"He told you his deep, dark secret."

"Which _is_…?"

"His name is Rodney."

Will continued staring.  "His name…is _Rodney_?  That's the deep secret?  His _name_?"

"Names can be damaging," Jack said sagely.

Rodney agreed.  "Chatter chatter!  Chatter _chatter_ chatter!"  The squirrel was getting himself worked up again.  "Chatter _chatter_!  Chatter CHATTER CHATTER!"  In his agitation, he began hopping up and down on top of Jack's hat.  "CHATTER CHATTER chatter!"

Jack was nervous, eyes wide, hands clasped near his mouth.  "The hat!  Watch the hat!  Don't damage the hat!"

"Chatter chatter," the squirrel said apologetically.

"Tha's all right…" Jack said, discreetly sliding his hat away to a safe distance.  "Say…ye wanna come along with me?" he asked, an idea coming to him.  "You'll get to destroy someone eventually."

"Chatter!" the squirrel said enthusiastically.

Jack hesitated.  "Listen…I should probably warn ye…ye make friends with us, ye make enemies of others."  
"Chatter?"

"It's a guarantee."

"Chatter chatter," the squirrel said dismissively.

"Right then," Jack concluded.  "In the hat, savvy?"

"Chatter," the squirrel agreed.

Jack used the hat to scoop up Rodney, then settled his hat back on his head.  All problems solved, he stood up and walked over to Will.  "We can go now," he announced, reclaiming Hector.

Will stared at him, and pointed at the hat.  "But you…that is…um…"

Jack put one finger to his lips, and continued jauntily along the row.  Will continued staring at him for a moment, then shrugged, and followed after him.

~~~***~~~

Credits and Responses:

To give credit where credit is due, _Benny and Joon_ (a very cute movie I highly recommend; watch it with ice cream) features a scene in which Sam (Johnny's character) tries to pick up his hat, which keeps skidding away just as he reaches for it.  Whatshername's story, _A Rummy Thing Happened to Me_ (a hilarious story I highly recommend, available on this website) features a scene in which Jack has a conversation with a chattering monkey, which was all around too hilarious a concept for me not to borrow, with every intention of giving it back.  : )  The attack squirrel of death was inspired by a hilarious story read to us one day at lunch by Panda, which featured, well, an attack squirrel of death attacking a guy on a motorcycle, as he roared down a small suburban street at 90 miles an hour with a squirrel in his helmet.  It's quite amusing, really, and I wish I had the web address to give you.  Next chapter maybe.

Because I'm only human, working with only a 24 hour-day, I'm limiting my responses to a few reviews that need responses, for one reason or another.  Thank you _all_ for your reviews, I love them!  It's nice to know so many people have as random a sense of humor as me…

Whatshername: The "mostly dead" line was inspired by _A Princess Bride_, though now that I think about it Monty Python had a similar concept, as one character was trying to give a corpse to the corpse collectors, except that the corpse wasn't quite dead, and insisted that he was feeling better…

Thalial: Actually, I'm not making any particular effort to go through the movies one by one, so don't be surprised if two quotes turn up from one movie.  I'm mostly just going for amusing, halfway-relevant quotes, otherwise with no rhyme or reason.

Ashlie: I'm glad you like the story.  Thank you for your positive response.  However.  Regarding Calico Jack.  I feel challenged.  I like challenges.  Now then: Calico Jack was known for his flamboyant clothes, hence the name.  Jack's clothes aren't exceptionally flamboyant, but _he_ certainly is.  There is no historical record of Calico Jack using torture or murder, and he seems to have gone out of his way to treat his victims with restraint.  Sounds like Jack, no?  Calico Jack sailed from Nassau.  Jack sacked Nassau Port without firing a single shot (as stated by Elizabeth).  Calico Jack's flag was a skull over crossed cutlasses (not bones).  An identical flag can be seen flying from the _Black Pearl_.  Calico Jack was eventually hanged at Gallow's Point, which is located on a spit of land leading to Port Royal.  Very nearly the same thing happened to Jack, also in Port Royal, but for a blacksmith and a parrot.  Finally (and I think most compellingly) Calico Jack is known mostly for having two female crewmembers.  Their names were Anne Bonny and Mary Read.  Jack has Annamaria.  The defense rests.  The defense also acknowledges that it is highly unlikely Calico Jack had Jack's swishing walk, thick eyeliner, dangling beads, or Johnny Depp's face.  So yes, Jack is unique.  But he's also based on a real person.

I have nothing further to say.  Hmm.  I'll just let you get to that review button then.  Shall do my best to post again soon!


	7. Knights and Bears

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, or Will, or the other…very interesting characters parading through this chapter. You'll probably know the ones I stole when you see them.

Congratulations to ElizabethK, who got last chapter's quote correct! The line was "You make friends with us, you make enemies of others," and was said by Roux in _Chocolat_. [glomps Roux] Love him! There's another quote in this chapter, it's a bit random but if you've seen the movie I think you'll recognize it…

Dreadfully sorry this took so long to come up, I've been, well, dreadfully busy. Hopefully shall be able to rectify the slow posting now that summer vacation is fast approaching!

Chapter the Seventh

Jack and Will continued through the cornfield, as should come as no surprise, since that's what they've been doing for several chapters now. The _modus operandi_ at present was to keep going until something stopped them. If nothing had stopped them, it would have been a very dull story and you can stop reading now. But fortunately something stopped them quite quickly.

Turning a corner in the row of corn, they came suddenly upon a group of men who…well, they certainly weren't pirates. They would have been only slightly more probable in Camelot.

"Ah…'ello," Jack said in greeting, addressing himself to the extraordinarily tall fellow at the front of the group.

A response was swift. Said tall fellow glared down at Jack and Will, and, in what was obviously meant to be a menacing tone, loudly said, "_Ni_!"

Jack and Will stared at him. A long moment passed. Obviously something was expected from them.

"Um…eek?" Jack said doubtfully.

This was apparently satisfactory. "We are the Knights Who Say _Ni_!" the tall knight announced in a shrill voice.

Jack gasped theatrically. "Not the Knights Who Say Ni!"

Will blinked at him. "Who?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno. They seem to expect cringing though."

"Right," Will said skeptically, then asked the Tall Knight, "So, who are you exactly?"

"We are the Keepers of the Sacred Words…Ni…Peng…and Nee-wom! We greet thee, noble knights, on thy noble quest!"

Jack blinked, an expression of deep distaste crossing his face. "Us? Noble knights? _Us_?"

"Just go with it," Will muttered.

"But I'm a pirate," Jack muttered back.

"Yes, Jack, but—"

"I don't _wanna_ be a knight."

"Yes, Jack, but—"

"They've got this chivalry, honor, _code_ thing going on."

"_Yes_, Jack, but—"

"And rules, they've got _rules_. Not guidelines, _rules_."

"Yes, Jack, _but_—"

"All this…ceremony, and regulations about fighting, and respect for yer opponent, not laughing at their wigs and stuff."

"_Yes_, Jack, _but_—"

"It's just not true to the true me, y'know?"

"JACK!"

Jack smiled sweetly. "Yes?"

Will took a deep breath, and tried to remember what it was he had been planning to say. "Jack…you know what would be very true to the true you?"

"What's that?"

"Telling them you're a knight when you're not a knight."

Jack's eyes lit up. "Heeey…" He turned his attention back to the Knights of Ni, who had been watching the muttered conversation with faintly puzzled expressions. "Okay. Noble knights on a noble quest. Nice to meet ye."

"A noble _quest_!" the tall knight repeated in shrill tones. "And what is the _object_ of your quest?"

"The object of our quest?" Will repeated. "Ah…"

Jack didn't hesitate. "The way out."

Will looked at him doubtfully. The Knights of Ni did not.

"Ah, the _way out_," the tall knight said dramatically. "_Many_ seek this. _Few_ succeed."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "So where _is_ the way out?"

The knight shrugged. "Take a left behind us, turn right at the third cornstalk, stay to the left until you reach the dead cornstalk, then turn right and you're there."

"Sounds good, thanks, we'll be going." Jack started down the path.

"HALT."

Jack blinked. "What?"

"The Knights of Ni demand a sacrifice!" the Knight announced.

Jack frowned. "Why?"

"Because…we're the Knights of Ni and we demand a sacrifice."

Jack shrugged. "Oh." He thought about it. "What if we refuse?"

The tall knight looked at him askance. "_Ni_!"

Jack looked at him doubtfully. "Yeah?"

"_Ni_!" the tall knight said urgently, the others joining in. "_Ni_! _Ni_!"

Jack remembered his part. "Oh, right…eek. Help. Someone save me."

Though it was delivered in a monotone, the knights were satisfied. "If you do not appease us, we shall say '_Ni_!' to you again!" the tall knight informed them.

"More to the point, ye won't let us by if we don't appease you?" Jack asked, checking for confirmation.

"That too."

Jack considered the matter. "Well. That's a bit of a conundrum."

Will leaned over. "We could try to appease them."

Jack frowned. "That's not very pirate-like. Bet we could take 'em in a fight."

"Jack, we already have enough enemies around here."

"Yeah, well…"

Will addressed the Knights. "What, exactly, is this sacrifice you demand?"

"You must bring us…a _shrubbery_." Dramatic music rang through the cornfield.

"A shrubbery?" A light bulb spontaneously lit over Will's head.

"A shrubbery?" Jack said doubtfully. "Okay." He grabbed Will by the arm and started back along the row. "Grab your light bulb and let's go look for a shrubbery."

"One that looks nice," the tall knight called after them.

"Right," Jack tossed over his shoulder.

"And not too expensive."

"Sure."

"And one that can handle lots of shade."

"Uh-huh."

"Make sure it can be safely transplanted."

"We'll get you the shrubbery, okay?" Jack snapped, and continued on.

They didn't go on an immediate quest for a shrubbery though. Instead they came to a halt only a little way back along the row, just out of sight of the Knights of Ni.

"This is ridiculous," Jack announced, looking disgusted. "Besides appeasing being un-pirate-like, where are we going to find a _shrubbery_ in a _cornfield_?"

Will looked faintly smug. "We already _have_ a shrubbery, Jack."

Jack blinked. "What?"

Will silently pointed at the bonsai tree Jack had tucked under one arm.

Jack was horrified. "We can't give them _Hector_!"

"Jack, it's the perfect solution."

"And anyway, he's a _tree_," Jack said stiffly.

"That other guy, Roger, he thought it was a shrubbery. I think these, ah, Knights would accept it."

"Doesn't matter. He's a tree."

"He's too small to be a tree," Will said reasonably.

"_He_ doesn't know that."

Will didn't bother trying to address _that_ issue. "Jack, why not just give them the tree and get out of here? I'm sure they'll take good care of him."

"No," Jack said stubbornly.

"I don't understand, you kept _trying_ to give him away!"

"SSH! He'll _hear_ you!" Jack hissed.

"Jack, trees don't have _ears_!"

"How do you know? Were _you_ ever a tree?"

Will was trying hard to hang onto the ragged edge of sanity. "Jack, this is completely absurd. You're getting way too attached here! It's _just_ a _plant_!"

"_Now_ you've done it," Jack said in a grieved tone. "You've hurt his feelings."

Will gave up. "All right. Fine. What do you want me to do about it, _apologize_?"

"That would be a good start," Jack agreed.

"I'm not going to apologize to a _tree_!"

"I don't know why not. He's a very _nice_ tree."

"Fine, so we won't give him to the Knights of Ni."

"Good," Jack approved. "We'll give the Knights of Ni something else."

So they trooped back to see if there was anything else they could give the Knights of Ni.

"Have you brought…the _shrubbery_?" the foremost knight asked, as dramatic music crashed through the cornfield, knocking over a few stalks.

"Nope, couldn't find one," Jack said evenly.

"That looks like…a _shrubbery_," the Knight said, eyes on Hector, dramatic music echoing.

Jack bristled. "He's a _tree_."

"He looks like…a _shrubbery_." A dramatic chord sounded. "And we want…a _shrubbery_." The dramatic chord repeated.

"Why does everyone want my tree?" Jack demanded. "'cause ye can't have him!"

"Then we will not let you by."

Will decided it might be a good time to step in. "Listen, Knights of Ni—"

"We are no longer the Knights Who Say Ni," the tall knight interrupted. "We are now the Knights Who Say…Ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui."

Will blinked. "You're the Knights Who Say…WHAT?"

"Ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui, weren't you listening?" Jack asked.

Will stared at him.

"Right." Jack looked back at the Knights. "No shrubbery. Anything else we can do for ye?"

The Knights consulted with each other, and reached a conclusion.

"You must cut down the _mightiest_ cornstalk in the field, _with_…a _herring_!" Dramatic music sounded once more.

"Now _wait_ a minute, I'm a pirate, I know fish, that's…" Jack frowned. "Well, that's a mighty strange use for a fish."

"Strange?" Will repeated. "That's _impossible_!"

"Not _probable_," Jack corrected.

Will wasn't interested in being corrected. "That's impossible. It can't be done."

The Knights Who Say Ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui shrieked. "He said The Word! AUGH! He said The Word!"

Jack and Will looked at each other. "What'd you do _now_?" Jack asked.

"Said the word, apparently," Will said with a shrug.

"He has said The Word the Knights of Ni must never hear," the tall knight said, shaken.

"Hold up, I thought you were now the Knights Who Say Ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui," Jack pointed out.

Will was mildly unnerved. "Jack, stop saying that."

"Why? It's fun to say. Ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui," Jack pronounced with obvious relish.

"NO," the tall knight broke in. "Only _I_ may do that."

"Do what? Say Ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui?"

"Jack, that's enough," Will said.

"Come on, Will, lighten up, this is fun. Ecky-ecky—"

"_Jack_!"

"—ecky-pa_tong_-whoop—"

"Can we get back to the herring?!" the tall knight shouted over Jack's recitation.

"That's still impossible," Will said firmly.

"Not _probable_."

"Do you know how many _days_ that would take?"

"Wait, wait, let me figure that out!" Jack volunteered. His eyes shut in concentration. "Width of the cornstalk, compared to width of the fish…"

"Um, Jack…"

"…if you strike the fish 30 times per minute…" Jack's eyes opened. "I've got the answer."

"You've got what?" Will asked warily.

"How many days that'll take."

Will knew—KNEW—that he shouldn't ask. But he did. "How many?"

Jack's response was prompt. "One thousand, five hundred, and two."

Will looked at Jack. Jack looked at Will. "Right then," Will said finally, then pointedly turned back to the Knights. "It can't be done."

The Knights shrieked. "AUGH! He said The Word! He said The Word!"

"You did it again," Jack told Will.

"AUGH! Now _he_ said The Word!"

Jack blinked. "I said it?"

"AUGH! He said it again! AUGH! Now I said it! AUGH! I said it again!" The Knights continued shrieking and writhing.

Jack leaned over to Will, and, in a loud stage whisper, said, "Let's sneak past while they're distracted."

"Let's," Will agreed.

Jack elaborately tiptoed past the shrieking Knights, one hand on his hat, the other on his tree. Will rolled his eyes and followed at his normal walk.

They got away. Left the Knights writhing and shrieking and continued on through the rows of corn, taking a left behind the Knights of Ni, then taking a right at the third cornstalk.

"Well, that was a strange experience," Jack commented as they continued along.

"Oh, I don't know," Will mused, "compared to some things we've bumped into in here, they were practically ordinary. I mean, compared to the mattress, and the flying bowl, and…Jack, are you listening to me?"

"Not really." Jack was busy looking at a curious object lying on the ground partway down the row. He bent over and picked it up. It appeared to be a bag. With lots of little, bright colored…things. "I think they're bears. Squishy…bears." To the modern readership, we can safely call them gummy bears.

Will looked at him doubtfully. "Bears. Right, Jack."

"I'm serious! 'ere, I'll show ye." Jack grasped each side of the bag, and tugged. No result.

"Want me to try that?" Will offered.

"No. I'm fine." Jack continued frantically yanking on the bag. (Think of the sword in the wall…)

"I don't think you should do that…" Will cautioned.

"I'm fine." Jack gave one particularly violent yank, and the bag popped. Gummy bears flew everywhere, falling to the ground in a gentle, multi-colored rain.

There was a long moment of silence. Then Jack bent over, and picked up a single red gummy bear between his thumb and forefinger, and handed it to Will.

"'ere. It's a bear."

Will looked at the bear in the palm of his hand, and nodded. "Yes."

"I wonder what ye _do_ with these," Jack mused, glancing at the bears as he plucked them out of his hair.

"I don't know. Do you really think they're good for any—" A green bear bounced off Will's chest.

"I got it!" Jack said triumphantly. "They're a peculiar sort of weaponry!"

Will sighed. "Jack, I don't think—" An orange bear hit him in the head. "Jack, stop that!" Will ordered as a yellow bear struck his forehead. "This isn't funny, Jack!" A green bear bounced off his chin.

"Really? I think it's funny," Jack said, as he disentangled a pink bear from one of his braids and expertly bounced it off Will's nose.

Will glowered at Jack and tried to look threatening, an effect somewhat diminished by the three bears flying at him in quick succession. Finally, Will sighed. There was obviously only one thing to do.

Will bent down, picked up the nearest gummy bear, and hurled it at Jack.

Jack ducked. "Missed!" he said gleefully, pelting Will with more bears.

To which there was no response but for Will to continue throwing bears at Jack, who continued hurling them back, and soon a sizeable war had developed.

The battle of the bears might have gone on for some time. But then someone coughed. A few more bears flew and then Jack and Will both realized something. Neither of them had coughed. In unison they turned. And found a couple of very unfriendly looking soldiers in brilliant red shirts.

Jack and Will looked at the soldiers, then looked at the various-colored gummy bears they were holding, then looked at each other. They came to the same conclusion at the same moment.

The Navy found themselves dealing with an assault by a weapon for which they had no training in defense. As the multi-colored missiles struck, the soldiers flung themselves to the ground. However, it was only a moment before they realized something rather on the important side. Namely, that the multi-colored missiles were completely non-lethal. From there it was but a moment's step to picking up the gummy bears and looking at them. And then it was but another moment's step before there were gummy bears gleefully flying in both directions.

It was quite the most cheerful encounter between pirates and Navy in recent memory. If it had progressed, it might have revolutionized warfare. But it didn't. Jack aimed a little _too_ well, and hit a navyman in the eye with a red gummy bear. Said navyman was displeased. Very much so. So he drew his sword. In an instant three more swords were unsheathed. And then the battle was on.

-------

More soon. And just so you know, the Knights of Ni were stolen from _Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail_, a very irreverent but very funny movie.


	8. Soldiers and Morals

Disclaimer: I would really, really like to own Jack, but I don't.  It might be fun to own Will too, but I'd probably be willing to give him to whatever Will fangirl begged the most.  Jack, however, I would keep.  Though it's all a moot point as I don't own either of them.

Necessary business: Last chapter's quote was "One-thousand, five-hundred, and two," and was said by Don Juan de Marco in the movie of the same name.  As to what he was talking about, well…let's just say it wasn't fish and leave it at that.  Congrats to Siriusly Disturbed for guessing it!  Another quote is in this chapter, and I think it's a mite easier.  But we'll see, won't we?

Whew, it's been awhile, hasn't it?  _Terribly_ sorry!  Have high hopes of posting more frequently, for awhile at least, and we shall see how that goes…in the meantime, enjoy the story!

Chapter the Eighth

Swordfights can be a beautiful thing.  Well-choreographed ones, or ones between two people who really know what they're doing, can come across almost as a sort of dance.  So swordfights can be really beautiful.  Or, they can _not_ be.  When the fight broke out between the Jack and Will and the two soldiers, they paired off, Jack fighting one, Will the other.  Jack and Will knew what they were doing.  Will's soldier did also.  Jack's soldier did not.  He lacked the intellect.  Will immediately entered into a battle involving a lot of circling and a lot of blocking.  Jack spent a minute getting a feel for his opponent's ability, and then decided to have some fun.

Jack's sword darted past the soldier's defense and nicked his shoulder.  The soldier wasn't happy, but he fought on unperturbed.

"Yer arm's off," Jack announced.

The soldier blinked.  "No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is," Jack insisted.

"It's just a scratch."

Jack looked at him as though he had lost his mind.  "Yer _arm's_ off!"

"It's only a flesh wound," the soldier said, starting to look nervous.

"Then what's that?" Jack asked, pointing at the empty ground.  By now the clashing swords had slowed and the fight had all but stopped.

The soldier looked at the ground.  "I don't see anything."

"Well of _course_ you can't see yer own severed limb," Jack said matter-of-factly.

"No.  It's a mental block.  Ye go mad lookin' at yer own severed limbs, so the mind blocks it."

The soldier looked at Jack, wide-eyed.  "Really?"

"Son, would I lie to you about whether I cut yer arm off?"

"I don't know!"

"I wouldn't," Jack said firmly.

The soldier considered the matter.  "Do you swear on your honor as a law-abiding subject of his majesty?"

"As a _law-abiding_ subject of his majesty?"  Jack grinned.  "_Absolutely_."

"Well, all right then," the soldier concluded.  "Guess you'd better go.  I can't fight with only one arm."

"No, ye can't.  Why don't ye just sit over there, and maybe Norrington can sew ye back together when he comes trotting up," Jack suggested, clapping the soldier on his, er, _missing_ shoulder.

"I'll do that," the soldier agreed, wandering off to sit by the corn.

Jack grinned roguishly, and walked over to where Will was sheathing his sword, the soldier he'd been fighting lying unconscious in the grass.

"I'm done," Jack announced.  "You finished?"

"No, but he is," Will said with a nod to the soldier.  He glanced around and noticed the other soldier sitting by the cornstalks.  "You took care of him fast."

Jack nodded.  "Yep.  I cut his arm off."

The soldier, realizing he was being looked at, waved pleasantly.

Will looked at the soldier, who very clearly had all his limbs.  "Which arm?"

"The one he's waving with, of course."  With that, Jack set off along the edge of the field.

Will blinked, then hastened after Jack.  "Wait a minute, if you cut his arm off…?"

"I didn't.  But he _thinks_ I did," Jack said significantly.

"How'd you manage _that_?"

"Easy.  I just swore on my honor as a law-abiding citizen of his majesty."

"_Your_ honor as a law-abiding citizen of his majesty?"

Jack managed to look wounded.  "Are you suggesting I'm not law-abiding?"

"Yes." 

Jack shrugged.  "Well, if the tricorn fits…  Anyway, _he_ suggested it.  Pride o' the King's Navy, he is."

Will was amused, but also thoughtful as they continued on in silence for a few minutes.  Then Will asked.  "Say, Jack…have you ever thought about trying it?"

"Tryin' what?"

"Being a law-abiding citizen of his majesty."

Jack stopped abruptly to stare at Will.  "WHY?"

Will blinked.  "Well…there's some advantages.  Norrington wouldn't be after you right now if you didn't pillage and plunder and rifle and loot all the time," he pointed out.

Jack continued staring at him.  "I'm a _pirate_."

"Well, yes, I know.  And I'm not saying give up the lifestyle entirely, just, maybe…be a merchant, for example.  You can still sail the Black Pearl, still travel a lot, still wear the eyeliner, still visit all the taverns, just…be a little more law-abiding."

"Why?" Jack said again, unable to wrap his mind around the idea.

Will blinked.  "Well…because."

"But _why_?"

"So you won't end up on Gallows Point, for one thing."

"I won't.  I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, remember?"

Will forged on.  "And there's the moral aspect of it to consider."

"The moral aspect," Jack repeated. 

"Y'know what, let's try a moral question," Will proposed.

"A moral question."

"Right.  Now, you find a bag of gold that someone obviously lost.  What do you do with it?"

"Spend it on rum," Jack said promptly.

"No, no, it's a multiple choice question," Will explained.

"Oh.  Alright, go."

"All right.  So you've got the bag of gold.  "Do you A, spend it on yourself; B, give it to your loved ones; C, give it to the poor; or D, turn it in to the nearest official to see if anyone claims it?"

Will stopped.  Jack didn't answer.  Will waited.  Jack still didn't answer.

"Well?" Will said finally.

"What's E?" Jack asked.

Will blinked.  "There is no E."

"How can there not be an E?" Jack demanded.

"Why _would_ there be an E?" Will countered.

"Because you haven't given the right answer yet!"

"Yes, I have," Will protested.

"No, you haven't.  And you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because the right answer is E!"

Will sighed.  "Jack, realize the truth.  _There is no E_."

"Yes, there is," Jack insisted.  "E is divide it among my crew."

Will looked pained.  "Jack, I don't think…"

"That's the way I run my ship.  Everything's an equal share."

"Jack…"

"Pirate captains who hoard gold get into a lot of trouble, believe me.  And while I'm reas'nably sure Gibbs and Annamaria won't shoot me in the back one dark night, I _could_ get myself voted out of the captaincy.  Pirate ships're democratic, you know.  So I could end up swabbing decks on me own ship, that would be embarassi—"

"Jack, can we get back to the moral question?" Will interrupted.

Jack stopped.  "Isn't that what we're talkin' about?"

"No, you were supposed to pick one of the four choices as morally correct."

"Oh.  Right.  Okay, I can get this…"  Jack's eyes shut and his brow furrowed in concentration for a long moment.  "Give it to my loved ones?"  His eyes opened.  "Is that right?"

Will frowned.  "Well, no, actually.  You're supposed to give it to the nearest official."

Jack stared at him as though he'd gone mad.  "I'm supposed to give it to _Norrington_?"

"No, not exactly, the idea is that whoever lost it can go get it from him—"

"Why would I give gold to _Norrington_?"

"You're not really giving it to him, you're—"

"Norrington is definitely _not_ one of my loved ones!"

Will gave up.  "You know what, forget it."

"I want to know why I'm giving gold to Norrington!"

"Let's walk," Will said, and did.

Jack trailed along behind.  "But why am I giving Norrington gold?"

"I said forget it!"

"But I want to know!"

Will ignored him.

Jack shrugged.  "I'd divide it.  Or buy rum," he decided to himself.

Will ignored that too.  They continued on in silence.  But not for very long.

"Y'know, that wasn't a very good moral question anyway," Jack pointed out.

"Jack, just drop it, all right?"

"'cause it doesn't really fit into my life."

"It's just an example."

"'cause I _know_ how the morals work for my life."

Will blinked at him.  "You do?"

"Oh sure.  I live by the Code, of course."

Will wondered why he hadn't seen _that_ one coming.  "Of course," he said, resigned.

"But y'know, I take that good man business seriously."

"Uh-huh."

"So I'm generally nice to kids.  I don't hurt women; just threaten a little, sometimes.  I don't kill anyone if I don't have to.  I raid and cheat and plunder, but those are a pirate's rights.  Excess brutality ain't really my thing anyway though.  And mostly, I don't have a problem with the big guy up there if he doesn't have a problem with me.  So I figure on the last day, when the trumpet sounds, I'll at least be let into Hell."

Will stared at him.  "Y'know, Jack, that's kinda profound."

Jack blinked.  "It is?"

Will shrugged.  "Kinda."

-----

A few little notes: Jackslvr: I believe "Ni" is spelled, well, "Ni," based on the subtitles I think…I dunno, my friends swear it's spelled that way, I would've guessed "Nee" too.  To everyone else: thank you much for the reviews!  Love you all, even if I'm very bad about posting this one.


	9. Walking and Rambling

Disclaimer: Jack's mine. And if you believe that, let's negotiate for selling the rights to _Hamlet_ too. Will and Norrington are not mine, and you may have them if you like. You may not have the unspecified number of soldiers, however, as they are otherwise occupied working on my Pre-Calculus homework…oh, how I wish…

Look, I'm still alive! And so are Jack, Will, and Hector! Speaking of Hector, his fans will be interested to know that he made his first live acting debut last spring at my high school's annual Shakespeare Festival. He played the part of "The Arbor" in a scene from _Much Ado About Nothing_, and was absolutely the star of the piece. Don't know how I failed to mention that sooner.

On to business. Last chapter's quote was "Give it my loved ones," which I think is the saddest, most pathetic little line in _Edward Scissorhands_. Congrats to ChaosLightning, and aaserene! As for this chapter, it's a little quote happy, with two Johnny quotes that I expect just about everyone will get, and a bonus quote, which is from a Johnny movie but not actually said by a Johnny character. So there's the situation, have fun hunting!

Onward to the chapter.

Chapter the Ninth

Jack and Will continued on. They didn't continue very far though. Because, as you will recall, they weren't wandering in the cornfield for their health. They were wandering in the cornfield because Norrington was hunting for them. And getting kind of close.

"Hide," Will said, as they came around an edge of the cornfield.

The immediate result was a dive behind the nearest cornstalks. It was so immediate, and so rapid, that they were quite hidden from sight by the time Norrington and an unspecified number of soldiers came marching by. Not that they marched _by,_ exactly. Unfortunately for our heroes, Norrington and his unspecified number of soldiers felt it necessary to stop and discuss the situation just before the cornstalks hiding our aforementioned heroes. Who, by the way, were a little surprised. Will was, anyway.

"I thought we left Norrington at the other end of the cornfield," he whispered to Jack.

"Maybe we're _at_ the other end of the cornfield," Jack responded.

Will blinked. "What?"

"Maybe we didn't go straight."

"We were following a row of corn. A straight row of corn."

Jack shrugged. "It's a strange cornfield."

Meanwhile, Norrington and his soldiers remained unaware that the objects of their search were hiding within earshot. Without this crucial knowledge, the hunt remained aimless.

"A general, wide-sweeping search seems reasonable," Norrington was concluding as our heroes tuned into the conversation. "I think I'll take a walk around the cornfield."

"Aw heck, James!" Jack shouted suddenly, "Live a little—make it _two_!"

Cover blown.

"_Jack_!" Will hissed. "What are you _doing_?"

Jack shrugged apologetically. "Couldn't resist, mate."

By now, an unspecified number of guns were leveled at the cornfield.

"I advise you to give yourself up, _Mister_ Sparrow," Norrington announced.

Which was kinda stupid, because, y'know, would _you_ follow advice from a guy in a wig like that? Well, Jack definitely didn't. By the time the soldiers advanced into the corn, Jack and Will were beating a hasty retreat through the rustling green leaves.

Once they were safely away, Will turned and regarded his partner in flight. "And you're always telling _me_ not to do anything…_stupid_."

"I know, I know, not one of my better plans."

"No," Will said pointedly.

"But it was worth it," Jack said firmly. "He's a rubbernecker."

"_What_?"

"A rubbernecker. Don't you think he's a complete rubbernecker?"

"No, I _don't_ think Norrington is a rubbernecker."

"But he _is_!" Jack insisted. "He was completely rubbernecking."

"He was not."

"Yes he was," Jack said firmly. "He absolutely was."

"Oh come on, Jack!" Will snapped. "What _is_ a rubbernecker?"

Jack grinned. "I dunno, but I bet Norrington is one. It just sounds like something Norrington would be. Don't you think so?"

Will stared at him for a long, long moment. "I don't believe this."

"That Norrington's probably a rubbernecker?"

"This has got to be one of the most absurd conversations I have _ever_ had!"

Jack's eyes lit up. "Let's talk about some of the runner-ups. That would be fun!"

"Let's not."

"Aw come on," Jack wheedled. "I'll start. I once had a very philosophical discussion about the similarities between pirates and cheese."

Will went right on staring. "Cheese."

"Cheese is more important than most people realize," Jack said sagely. "Some cultures are defined by their relationship to cheese."

"Jack…" Will said slowly, "have you ever considered the possibility that you are completely _insane_?"

Jack considered. "You mean daft?"

"No, I mean _insane_! _Crazy_! Multiple personalities, alter egos, talking to yourself, all of it! Have you considered that as a reason for your _random_ topic divergences?"

Jack thought about that. "Nope."

"How do you know you're _not_ insane?" Will challenged.

Jack thought about _that_. "I guess I don't." He seemed to rather like the idea. "That could be very interesting. I could be imagining people!" Suddenly he looked at Will suspiciously. "I could be imagining _you_!"

Will had a pained expression. "Jack, I didn't mean—"

"You might be solely the product of my imagination!"

"Jack, I don't see any reason to think that—"

"Of course you don't. Because I'm imagining you."

Will was clearly trying very hard to cling to the ragged edge of sanity. "Now wait a minute, Jack, I—"

"No, I can't be imagining you," Jack suddenly decided. "I wouldn't imagine someone like you."

Will blinked, somewhat derailed by this abrupt declaration. "Uh, you wouldn't?"

"Nah, I'd imagine someone young and beautiful. Also female. Blond, maybe, and very—"

"Jack, never mind, alright?" Will interrupted. "Just…never mind about the whole thing."

"Definitely blond. And very—"

"You _do_ realize there's no reason for you to be pursuing this line of thought?" Will said over him.

Jack blinked. "That's true. And ye know what that is? That's bad writing."

"What?"

"And ye know what we do with bad writing?"

"_What_?" Which, by the way, Will didn't mean as a question but as an exclamation of confusion. Jack answered it anyway.

"We delete it. I think the dog approves of that."

Will was tempted to clutch at his head and see if that helped. "What dog?"

"Any dog."

Will was also tempted to try strangling Jack. That might help too. "_Jack_…"

"No, wait, it does makes sense," Jack suddenly decided. "It's just me rambling off on random tangents. It's based around a random character, rather than a random plot line."

"Um…"

"Ain't it nice to know it's not bad writing after all, we don't have to delete ourselves, and the world does make sense?"

Will was fast approaching his last straw. "Jack, _nothing makes sense_. Nothing has made sense since I got into this bloody cornfield!

"Oh." Jack thought a moment, then looked at Will quizzically. "So…is that bad?"

For Will, it was the end of the rope that broke the camel's back. A sentence no more random than anything else in this story. "I could be at home with my wife," he said to no one in particular. "But no. I'm out wandering in a dark cornfield with an _insane pirate_!"

Jack grinned. "They're the best kind, y'know."

Will glared at him. "I've had it, Jack. Had it and then some. I'm not running interference in crazy cornfields anymore. You're on your own." He stalked off down the row.

Jack watched him go. For a moment or two. "'If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it. At least my conscience will be clear,'" Jack said in ringing tones.

Will stopped walking.

"It was a stirring moment," Jack told him. "The whole crowd was stirred. Because it was stirring. I think even Norrington was stirred. As for me, well…" Jack laid a hand over his heart. "I was very stirred. I couldn't have been more stirred if I was soup. And y'know why? 'Cause it was, well…"

"Stirring?" Will offered.

Jack nodded. "Couldn't've put it better myself."

Will sighed, and turned around. "All right. Which direction are we going now?"

Jack grinned, and slung an arm around Will's shoulders. "Y'know what? Yer an okay kid, for a blacksmith."

"You're not so bad yourself. For an insane pirate."

I love insane pirates…also reviews. A few brief replies: Beedrill: Yay, a Make of a Captain reviewer has come over to the other story! Happy to see ye, mate! And yeah, Superbowl is inspired by, well, the Super Bowl. And Superman, obviously. Snarker: A _plot_? Well…maybe sort of… To everyone else, thanks for the reviews, try not to suffocate, hope you enjoyed the new chapter!


	10. Strange and Familiar

Disclaimer: I own nothing. And I mean nothing. I own even less than usual in this chapter.

Hello all! Been an insanely long while, hasn't it? Very sorry about that! But well…here it is again! Mostly thanks to Meaghan who keeps bugging me about this story. So thank you, Meaghan (I mean that sincerely), and now you can stop poking me about posting again. I'd recap the plot since it's been so long, but…there isn't one. Jack and Will are wandering in a cornfield, avoiding Norrington and his unspecified number of soldiers, while Elizabeth is elsewhere looking for Jack's crew. So far Jack has made friends with a squirrel and a bonsai tree, and had some unfortunate run-ins with a mattress, a flying salad bowl, and numerous other strange entities. Not much of a plot.

As to business…last chapter's quotes! First quote was "Aw heck, James! Live a little! Make it two!" which, along with the subsequent "rubbernecker" discussion, was from _Secret Window_. Ditto for the bad writing discussion. And "Some cultures are defined by their relationship to cheese" is a quote out of _Benny and Joon_, said by Joon. Congrats to Flying Sparrow, Teenaged Banshee, Naoko Tasaki, Lordoftheringsfanficreader, open-notebook (I'm assuming, based on Secret Window reference in review), the Flying Amish and elizabethk! (wow, that's a lot…)

Only other business is to report that there are, sadly, no quotes in this chapter. Try as I might, none fit. Leastwise, it didn't fit to have _Jack_ say any….safe to say, Johnny's other movies are adequately represented. Read on.

Chapter the Tenth

There were countless rows of corn in this particular field. Probably hundreds at least. Even wandering all night, Jack and Will were unlikely to go down every row. And yet, they still managed to go down the wrong row. They realized it was the wrong row to pick after going only a few feet. They had only gone those few feet when they heard a rustling behind them. When they looked back, they found a solid wall of corn.

Will blinked at the solid mass of cornstalks. "Didn't we come through there a minute ago?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Wasn't there an _empty row_ there a minute ago?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah."

"Where did it _go_? Cornstalks don't move!"

Jack shrugged. "It's a strange cornfield."

"You aren't kidding," Will said, walking up to the stalks. He reached a hand in between the green leaves. "I wonder if we can push—ow!" He jerked his hand back and stared at the corn. "It _bit_ me!"

Jack's expression was distinctly patronizing, and it's a good bet he had a few of the evening's previous events in mind. Things like flying bowls, the existence of which had been doubted by certain people. "Cornstalks don't bite, Will."

"This one does. See for yourself."

"Cornstalks don't have teeth, ye see," Jack said, reaching into the corn. He pulled back almost at once. "_Fangs_, though, they _may_ have fangs." He shook his hand, and frowned. "I think we're gonna be 'ere awhile."

Because they couldn't go back, the only option was forward. So they went forward. Not very far though. When trapped in a cornfield, it's a good idea to ask directions from the locals. Not that you're very likely to find locals sitting in a cornfield in the middle of the night. But sometimes you get lucky.

"Hello."

Jack and Will halted to regard the young man with the reddish-brown hair sitting against the corn. He hardly looked like the type you'd find in Port Royal, Tortuga, or a cornfield.

"'ello," Jack said cheerfully. "Nice to meet ye, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." He extended an only slightly dirty hand.

The man stood up, and shook Jack's hand. "I'm Gilbert Grape."

"Don't s'pose you know the way outta here, Gilbert?" Jack asked.

Gilbert shook his head in a negative. "I don't even know where here is. At first I thought I was in the fields near my town, but…the people here…there's nobody like them in Endora." He glanced at Jack. "No one like _you_ either."

Jack's expression was distinctly smug. "I'm kinda unique."

Will managed to stick more firmly to the point. "Did you say there are other people here?"

"Oh, sure. Just keep going that way," Gilbert said, indicating the direction they'd been walking in. "I don't think they know the way out either though."

"But it can't 'urt to ask," Jack said optimistically. "Thanks fer yer help."

Jack and Will continued on. They next came upon two men standing deep in conversation. Both were neatly dressed in suits, one with a faintly Victorian flare, the other far older than that. The one on the left had a gray suit and dark hair neatly combed and faintly wavy. The one on the right had dark hair as well but longer over his forehead, with a mustache and short beard, above a brown suit. They didn't notice Jack and Will, engaged as they were in their own discussion.

"So do you have trouble with people moving the bodies?" the one in gray was asking.

"Definitely. Happens to you too?"

"All the time. These country people just don't get it that you must never move the body."

"And interference just makes the job harder. I've had murder notes rubbed out, crowds swarming to see a victim—usually regretting it afterwards, but getting in the way at the time."

"It's a hard line of work we're in."

The two lapsed into a contemplative silence. Jack took the opportunity to cough. Both men looked over, appearing unsurprised. Though it seems doubtful one would expect to see all four of these men in the same place at the same time. Or even the same century.

The one in gray extended a hand. "You must be newcomers. Nice to meet you. I'm Ichabod Crane, special investigator for the New York homicide department."

"And I'm Fred Abberline, special investigator for her majesty's government.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and I…don't work for anyone." Jack shrugged. "I'm a pirate."

"I'm Will Turner, blacksmith. Occasionally known to commit acts of piracy."

Handshaking went all around. Jack shook hands with Ichabod. Will shook hands with Fred. Jack shook hands with Fred. Will shook hands with Ichabod. Jack tried to shake hands with Will, but Will gave him a look.

"So, welcome to…" Ichabod paused. "I don't know what you want to call this place, but welcome anyway."

"We're just passing through," Will said at once.

Fred and Ichabod exchanged a look. "Of course," Fred said.

"Could ye point us to the way out?" Jack requested.

"There isn't one," Ichabod said.

"There _has_ to be one," Will argued.

Ichabod shook his head. "There isn't. People come in…"

"But no one leaves," Fred finished.

"So…what, you all just _stay_ here?" Will asked incredulously.

"Why don't you go talk to Roux?" Ichabod suggested. "Maybe he can explain things to you."

"Just keep going that way. Roux's the one with the guitar," Fred explained.

"Alright, off we go again," Jack concluded, and struck off again. Will shrugged and followed.

The row they were in soon opened out into a larger clearing, bordered by waving cornstalks and filled with a scattering of people. Jack and Will cut across the clearing, following the guitar music, to find Roux. Sitting on a rough bench, he was wearing a dark blue-green shirt, and bending over a guitar. A few strands of light brown hair had escaped his ponytail and were hanging about his face.

"'scuse me, are you Roux?" Jack asked.

Roux nodded without looking up, intent on his guitar and the tune he was fingering.

"Fred an' Ichabod told us to talk to ye," Jack explained.

Roux finished out his music then looked up, propping the guitar against the bench next to him. "Newcomers, eh? Welcome."

Jack was tiring of the introductions, and raced through them. "I'm Jack, he's Will, and we're just passing through," he said firmly.

"Of course," Roux said knowingly. "Let me try to make it clear. There's a couple dozen of us here, and no one can find a way out. We're here. And we seem to be staying."

"But I can't stay!" Jack protested, sitting down on the bench next to Roux. "I've got a ship!"

Will sat down on Roux's other side. "And I've got a wife."

"Yeah, but _I_ have a _ship_." It was pretty obvious which Jack thought was more important.

"You have a ship?" Roux asked.

"The _Black Pearl_," Jack said proudly.

"I have a ship."

Jack looked at Roux with new interest. "Really?"

"Sure. I'm a river rat."

Jack's eyes practically lit up. "Is that sort of like a pirate?"

Roux smiled. "Yeah, you could say that."

"_I'm_ a pirate," Jack said proudly. "The most fearsome pirate in the entire Spanish Main. Which is why I've got to get back to my ship," he added, back to his original point.

"You may not be able to," Roux cautioned.

"I'm _not_ losin' my ship because I'm trapped in a bloody cornfield!"

"Well sometimes it happens," Roux snapped. "Ships get lost, believe me. I know."

At which point Jack put aside his immediate goal and showed a fair bit of insight. He looked at Roux shrewdly. "Ye've lost a ship, 'aven't ye?"

Roux looked away. "She burned."

"I'm sorry, mate," Jack said sincerely.

Roux nodded. "Me too. Had to tell myself I hadn't lost a home, just a way to get from place to place, really."

Jack choked and turned positively white.

Roux frowned. "Are you all right?"

Jack gasped and gaped and seemed to be trying to say something but couldn't formulate the words, ending up with strange half-syllables instead.

"Jack, _breathe_," Will ordered.

Jack took in a gulping breath and finally managed to croak, "Just a way…to get…from _place to place_?"

Roux nodded. "Well, yes, because—"

"_Place to place_?" Jack's voice was rising. "_Just_ a way—a ship—_place to PLACE_? What's _wrong_ with you?!"

Roux showed remarkable patience. "Wait a minute, let me—"

Jack leaped to his feet, set his bonsai tree down on the bench, and drew his sword. "Draw," he ordered.

"I don't have a sword," Roux pointed out.

"Will, give him your sword."

"And if I _had_ a sword, I wouldn't know how to use it," Roux further pointed out.

Jack frowned, and switched weapons. "Pistols at twenty paces?" he said hopefully. "One shot each?"

"Jack, I'm not going to duel you."

"You insulted my girl," Jack said stiffly.

"You mean…the _Black Pearl_?" Roux guessed.

"Yes!"

"Are you understanding this?" Roux asked Will.

Will shrugged. "He's very attached to his ship."

"Because what a ship is…what the _Black Pearl_ really _is_…is _freedom_."

"Question," Will put in, "is that really all that different from 'a way to get from place to place?'"

Jack opened his mouth. Shut it again. Thought a moment. Dismissed the whole thing. "Yes! It is! It's completely different, an entirely different concept! Which is why I want ye to choose yer weapon. If necessary, find me a guitar and I'll hit ye over the head with it."

"Jack, will you sit down and let me finish?"

"No." Jack remained standing.

"Well I'm going to finish anyway, alright? I was upset when I said that. I didn't _mean_ it."

"Oh." Jack sat down. "That's different then. So. We were talking about the way out."

"Actually, we were talking about how there _isn't_ one," Roux reminded him.

"I'm unconvinced."

"Why don't you walk around a little? Meet the people, see what we've got here…just get a feel for the place."

"A good idea," Jack decreed. "And maybe we'll find the way out somewhere."

Roux looked at him doubtfully. "Maybe," he said, and bent to pick up his guitar again. "So, just…wander a little. If you want something to eat try that way."

"Let's," Jack decided, picked up Hector, and headed in the direction Roux had indicated as having food, Will trooping dutifully after.

"I wonder what kind of food we'll be able to find," Will said idly as they walked along.

"Corn," said a voice that didn't belong to Jack or Will. Looking to their left, they saw a young man with straight dark hair, a blue jacket and pants, and dark glasses. "You'll find lots, and lots, of corn. Unless you brought food?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope, sorry," Jack said.

The other man sighed. "What I wouldn't give for some pork. I might even let the cook live."

Jack gave him a strange look, and opted to continue on his way. Will wasn't quite so willing to let it go. "Wait…you normally kill cooks?"

"I have to restore the balance to Mexico," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Of course," Will said faintly, and continued after Jack.

It turned out it was easy to find the food. And it turned out the gentleman of the pork had been correct. There was a lot of corn. A table piled high with a mountain of corncobs. The only part of the table not covered in corn was the steaming vat of water.

A man peered over the top of the corn. He had blond-streaked brown hair, large, brown-rimmed glasses, and a nice smile. "Hi, I'm Mort. You must be looking for something to eat. I hope you like corn."

Jack had a very odd expression. "No…no, I don't think so. No, thanks."

Will looked at him in surprise. "What? I thought—"

"I've got a _bad_ feeling about this," Jack hissed.

"It's _corn_, Jack!"

"I grew it myself," Mort put in. "There's this nice corner by my cabin, it grows great there. So do you want some?"

"No. I don't," Jack said abruptly.

"I—" Will began.

"He doesn't want any either," Jack interrupted.

Will stared at him. "Jack, what—?"

"I don' trust him," Jack muttered.

"Jack!"

"Got a bad feeling, that's all," Jack said in a low voice. "Look, you stay and eat the weird corn, whatever, I'm gonna go…" He looked around. "…look at the guy doing the hat tricks," he said vaguely, nodding towards a small crowd gathered to, well, look at the guy doing the hat tricks.

Will watched him amble off for a moment, then turned back to Mort. "I'm sorry, I don't know what that was all about—"

"And another thing." Jack was back. He looked furtively at Mort, then muttered in Will's ear, "If his mouth starts twitching…_run_."

"_What_?"

Jack held up his hands in innocence. "Just a feeling, just a feeling." Then he retreated again.

Will looked back at Mort. "Um, he's a little…"

"Insane? Maybe bordering on schizophrenic, or split personalities?" Mort suggested innocently.

For the first time Will gave Mort just a slightly odd look. "Well…I don't know about that, but he is a little…out there."

"Lots of people in here are out there," Mort said calmly. "But I take it you won't be wanting any corn?"

Will glanced towards Jack. "It might be a bad idea."

"Want some Doritos then?" Mort asked, offering Will an orange bag.

Will looked at the bag. "What are they?"

It was finally Mort's turn to deliver some strange looks. "Chips."

"Are they edible?"

"Yes…"

"All right, sure," Will said, taking the bag and dubiously biting into a Dorito.

"Where are you from, kid?" Mort asked curiously.

"Port Royal," Will said, oblivious to the fact that being unaware of Doritos was at all strange. "These are kind of…interesting," he concluded.

"Yeah."

"I better catch up with Jack," Will said, and turned to go. "Thanks for the…Doritas."

"Don't mention it," Mort Rainey said, helping himself to another ear of corn from the steaming bowl.

Which gave Will a funny sort of feeling. He managed a smile and nodded to Mort, privately wondered if just possibly Jack might have a point about this one, and went to rejoin Jack among the crowd watching the guy doing the hat tricks.

Who we will hear about next chapter. Because this is already very long, and besides, I couldn't give away every single character in one fell swoop, could I?

Just for clarification purposes, characters appearingthus far are: Gilbert from _What's Eating Gilbert Grape?_, Ichabod from _Sleepy Hollow_, Fred from _FromHell_, Roux from _Chocolat_, Sands from _Once Upon a Time in Mexico_,and Mort from _Secret Window_. More comingsoon!(And I mean that!)


	11. Familiar and Strange

Disclaimer: So what happens if I _say_ I own everything? I mean really, what's anybody going to do about that? It's not like Johnny's going to show up on my doorstep and accuse me of stealing his characters… Though on the _improbable_ chance that he might…I own it! I own it all! It's all _mine_! There, now let's see anyone coughJohnnycough do something about that.

To business. Thank you very much for all your reviews, and for your lack of condemnation regarding the long time between posting! I'm so glad you're all enjoying my utter randomness. A brief note to Flying Sparrow: I congratulate you on your ability at predicting the future. I swear I had this chapter worked out before you reviewed, and you definitely made some correct guesses. Read on. In fact, everybody read on. And enjoy. No quote this chapter, but plenty of representation of other movies!

Chapter the Eleventh

As you will recall, when last we saw them, Jack and Will were in an extraordinarily odd part of the cornfield, where they had met some fairly odd people, and were now watching a guy doing some hat tricks. They were also starting to get hungry, but conveniently Will had just been given a bag of Doritos by a rather suspicious person named Mort.

"Want some of these, uh…" Will glanced at the Doritos. "…stuff?" he asked Jack.

Jack waved a negative and gestured that he should watch the guy doing the hat tricks. So Will did. The guy doing the hat tricks was really very good. A young man with dark brown, almost shoulder-length hair, he was chasing an only slightly battered fedora around the clearing. With every step he took the hat skittered farther away.

"Bet he's got a squirrel under there," Jack muttered knowingly to Will, tapping his own hat as he said it.

At that moment the performer took a flying leap and landed flat on the ground, arms around his hat. Jack winced sympathetically. The performer picked up his hat (no sign of any squirrels), went through a few more tricks of flipping and catching, then tossed it spinning up in the air, landed it perfectly on top of his head, and finished with a deep bow. There was an enthusiastic round of applause, and then the crowd began to disperse. Jack and Will walked over to the man of the hat tricks.

"Nice hat," Jack commented.

He glanced at Jack and smiled. "You too. New around here?"

"Just arrived," Jack confirmed. "I'm Jack, he's Will."

"With an L?"

Will blinked. "Uh, yeah. Two."

He nodded. "Sam," he said by way of introduction. "You've met Mort," he observed, nodding to the Doritos bag.

"How did you know?" Will asked.

"He gives everyone Doritos and corn."

"We didn't take the corn," Jack said quickly.

"Jack, will you let that _go_?"

"The corn's weird," Sam acknowledged.

"See? It's not just _me_!" Jack said triumphantly.

"So I've got my own food," Sam went on, removing a small box from his pocket. "Raisins?"

"You know the French are completely obsessed with raisins?" Jack commented as he accepted a few.

"Funny thing about raisins," Sam mused. "They're humiliated—"

"—grapes, really," Jack finished.

Will blinked at them. "Did anyone else find that a little odd?"

Jack and Sam looked at each other, then looked at Will. "No."

"Oh. Well. Never mind then."

"So do you know a way out of here?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Isn't one."

Jack sighed. "All right, who else can we ask?"

Sam shrugged. "You can walk around and ask anyone you like. They don't know either though."

"Yeah, we'll see. Thanks for the humiliated grapes."

"Any time."

Jack and Will traipsed on. A little ways. Until a very large dog came bounding out of a side row.

"That's a very large dog," Will commented.

Jack didn't respond. Mostly because he was being knocked over by the very large dog at the time. The dog came galumphing up, decided he liked Jack, and therefore went up on his hind legs to plant his fore legs firmly on Jack's chest. Jack went over backwards, making a sound resembling "aaghg," and wound up flat on his back.

The dog was followed by a man whose primary distinguishing feature was having by far the best-combed hair of anyone encountered in the cornfield to date. "I'm sorry, is my dog bothering you?" he asked in a pleasant Scottish accent.

"Bothered? Me? What gave ye that idea?" Jack asked from beneath said large dog. The dog barked once, then licked Jack's face. "Hey, watch it, don't smear the eyeliner!"

"Porthos, come here," the man with the accent ordered, hauling his dog off of Jack. "He's rather enthusiastic. He thinks he's a bear."

"We've all gotta have a dream," Jack agreed, brushing brown and white hair off his shirt as he stood up. "Did he smear my kohl?" he asked Will anxiously.

"It's _fine_, Jack."

"A pirate with eyeliner…" the Scottish man murmured, then pulled a small leather book and a pen out of the pockets of his coat and made a few notations. "And a red bandanna…"

Jack looked at him warily. "Uh…who are you and why do ye care about my eyeliner?"

"I'm J. M. Barrie," he answered, looking up from his notes. This elicited no particular reaction from Will or Jack. "J. M. Barrie the author." Still nothing. "I'm writing about pirates."

"Really?" Jack said, delighted. "We're kinda fascinatin' aren't we?"

J. M. Barrie smiled. "Kind of. I'm actually writing a play, with pirates and Indians and fairies—"

"Any aliens?"

Every head turned to see another man come up. He had hair only slightly longer than J. M. Barrie's, an enthusiastic grin, and a palm tree. "Hello. Edward D. Wood Jr., I'm a director, my specialty is science fiction movies but I'm very versatile, can handle anything."

"There's…no aliens in Neverland," J. M. Barrie said, somewhat taken aback. "And I don't need a director right now."

"Are you sure? I can get you a vampire!" Ed Wood promised cheerfully, grin entirely undiminished.

"There aren't any vampires either."

"But that's a nice tree," Jack put in, indicating the palm tree in a pot Ed Wood was carrying. "Does it have a name?"

Ed Wood blinked. "No. Should it?"

"Looks like a Melvin to me. This is Hector," Jack said, holding up the bonsai tree. Hector had gotten a little knocked around when the great bear Porthos had pounced, but aside from a leaf or two he was still in one piece.

"Pirates with pet bonsai trees," J. M. Barrie muttered, writing for a moment. Then he paused, frowned, and scratched out a few lines. "Maybe not."

"So how about an octopus?" Ed Wood asked. "Have you got an octopus in your play? I know where you can steal a great prop octopus!"

"No thank yo—Porthos!" Porthos had chosen that moment to go bounding off again. This time he was after a very drunk man in an elaborate outfit and a large wig. A very large wig. A very large, curly wig.

J. M. Barrie went after Porthos, saying as he went that he had a pirate character that wig would be perfect for.

Ed Wood went after J. M. Barrie, asking as he did if possibly there was space for atomic supermen in the play.

Jack and Will didn't go after anyone. Jack was wondering if the drunk man had any rum, and also if possibly he had stolen Governor Swann's wig. Will was wondering other things.

"Hey, Jack, have you noticed something kind of…odd about everyone in here?"

Jack set aside his other wonderings and considered. "Well, they all seem a little crazy. I like it. That what you mean?"

"Not exactly. I was thinking more, well…how they look."

Jack looked at him blankly. "How they look."

"Well yeah, they all sort of remind me of someone."

"All of them?" Jack said doubtfully. "They _all_ remind you of one person?"

"Yes…and I think I've figured out who."

Jack shrugged. "Alright, I'll bite. Who?"

"You."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "_Me_?"

"Yes," Will said firmly.

Jack frowned, thinking hard. "I ain't seein' it."

"You sure? Kind of around the eyes and cheekbones, maybe…"

Jack was giving him a Look. "They don' walk like me, they don' talk like me, they don' even _smile_ like me."

"Yes, that's true, but—"

"I'm s'posed to resemble that nut with all the corn? Or that quiet kid from Endora or wherever? Or those two guys talking about the bodies? An' more'n that, how can I resemble a lot of people who don't even resemble _each other_? This place is full of extremely unique individuals!"

"Fine, maybe I'm wrong. But, you know, around the eyes and cheekbones a little…"

"I ain't seein' it," Jack said obstinately.

Will gave up. "All right, all right, just forget it."

"Humph."

"You know something else odd though?"

Jack looked at him warily. "I don' know if I wanna know."

Will told him anyway. "There's no women here."

"_That_ I noticed," Jack said emphatically. "Pity."

"A great tragedy, is it not?" a soft voice commented with a faintly Spanish accent.

Jack and Will looked. And saw what was the most unique individual they had encountered in this section of the cornfield to date. The man's dark eyes and dark hair and mustache were not particularly unlike anyone else's. The black cape and black hat were somewhat more unique. Not to mention the mask.

Jack and Will were taken somewhat by surprise. "Where'd you come from?" Jack asked.

The question was taking more broadly than it was meant. "Mexico."

"You don't kill cooks, do you?" Will asked.

The man smiled. "As the saying goes, I am a lover, not a fighter. Well…also I fight. But mostly I prefer to love. You see, I am Don Juan de Marco, the greatest lover in the world."

Jack and Will looked at each other, and mutually agreed not to ask. Ask _this_ guy many questions, and the rating would go right out the window.

"Um, nice to meet ye," Jack said dubiously. "Jack, Will," he added by introduction, indicating which was which.

"I see you are carrying swords," Don Juan observed.

They were. "We are," Jack agreed.

"Want to duel?"

Jack blinked. "Uh…not especially."

Don Juan sighed. "Too bad. Since I can't be a lover right now I was hoping to be a fighter for a while."

"We'll, uh, get back to you on that…" Jack said vaguely. "Right now we're lookin' for a way outta here. Any ideas?"

Don Juan grinned, and if there had been any women present they probably would have been weak at the knees. But there were no women, so never mind. "If I knew a way out of here, I would be gone."

"You have a point," Jack agreed. "We'll continue on."

They continued on. Until Jack got hungry. And picked an ear of corn.

"I wonder how edible raw corn is."

"_Wait_ a minute," Will protested, "you passed up cooked corn and now you want to try it raw?"

"That wasn't just any cooked corn," Jack said sagely, "that was evil corn of death."

"Evil corn of…"

"Just trust me on this. It's simple. That was evil corn. This isn't."

Will shook his head. "Simple. Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh," Jack agreed, and studied the corncob. "So I wonder how edib—GAH!"

The GAH! had nothing at all to do with how edible the corn was. It had everything to do with the arrow that had just thunked into the corncob Jack was holding in front of his face. His eyes crossed to focus on the arrow in question. Then he lowered the corn and stared aghast at the man walking up to him carrying a bow.

"Are you _crazy_?" Jack demanded.

The man in front of him neatly snagged Don Juan's title of must unique-appearing individual. He looked quite unlike anyone else, and entirely defied Will's points about eyes and cheekbones. You see, he had blue eyes. What really made him unique, though, was the long blond hair. Not to mention the pointed ears.

He considered the question. "No. I'm not crazy. Elves rarely are."

Jack was completely derailed, diverted and distracted. "You're an _elf_?"

"Essentially."

"I thought elves were…y'know…" Jack gestured haphazardly. "…small."

The elf sighed. "A common misconception."

"Oh…" Suddenly Jack's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute, don't distract me! I'm mad at you! You shot an arrow at me!"

"No, I shot an arrow at the corn you were holding," he corrected.

"What if you'd _missed_?" Jack demanded.

He looked at him. "I don't miss."

To which Jack had no response.

The elf looked over his shoulder and called, "I made the shot, do you want to try?"

Another man approached from around a stand of cornstalks. Like the elf, he was indefinably different from everyone else in the cornfield, though less obviously so. He had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and was wearing what looked to be a toga. He was also carrying a bow.

He considered the glare Jack was giving them both. "I think I'd better not try."

"We're having an archery contest," the elf explained. "We can take a pause for introductions though." Then he waited expectantly.

Jack was still glaring, so Will took over the conversation. "I'm William Turner and this is Jack Sparr—"

Jack poked him. "Captain."

"Sorry, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. We just arrived recently."

The elf nodded an acknowledgment. "I am Legolas Greenleaf."

That left the one in the very cool, very chic toga. "Paris, prince of Troy."

Jack stopped glaring and his eyes lit up. "A prince? Do you have a lot of money and is it available for plundering?"

"_Jack_!" Will hissed, and elbowed him.

Paris blinked. "Uh…no?"

"Oh." Jack sighed.

"_Anyway_," Will said firmly, "you said you were having an archery contest?"

"We are," Legolas affirmed. "After we got here we found that we had a lot in common."

"So we trade battle stories and test each other at archery," Paris explained.

"My battle was bigger," Legolas put in.

"Mine was longer," Paris countered.

"Mine was more important."

"What's more important than the most beautiful woman in the world?"

"Hmm, maybe…the world itself?"

"Only maybe."

"Fine, but I didn't start mine."

"Got me there."

They smiled companionably at each other—obviously this was a long-standing, friendly argument—and turned their attention back to Jack and Will.

"So do you shoot?" Paris asked Will.

Will grinned. "Only with a pistol."

Paris looked at him. "A what?"

Will looked back. "A pistol. You know, a, uh…"

Jack poked him. "Can I have a word with you?"

Will blinked. "Uh, sure."

"Good." Jack stalked off a ways.

"Excuse us," Will said to Paris and Legolas, and followed Jack. "All right, what is it now?"

Jack frowned. "I don't like 'em."

"_What_?"

"I don't like 'em."

Will rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're having another bad feeling. Please, just don't tell me."

"There's nothing strange about having a bad feeling about a man that _shot_ at me!"

"He didn't shoot at _you_, he shot at the corn you were holding," Will said patiently.

"Yeah, about an inch from my _face_! What if he'd missed?"

"He doesn't miss."

"How do you know?"

"Because…he said so."

"Oh, and you trust him? HAH!"

Will sighed. "Jack, what is this all about?"

Jack shifted. "Well, I, uh, I just…I've got a funny sorta feeling…"

"I _knew_ it."

"Not a _bad_ feeling, just, well…they're kinda strange."

"As compared to everyone else around here?" Will countered.

"Well, yeah, sure, that's a point," Jack agreed. "But…I've had a pretty clear feeling 'bout everyone else aroun' here; even the guy with the corn, I had a pretty clear _bad_ feeling about him. These two, I ain't gettin' any feeling."

"You know something, Jack? _I'm_ getting a pretty clear feeling, and I like them."

"Well, _bully_ for you," Jack said sarcastically.

Will was becoming frustrated. "All right, Jack, fine. You do whatever you want, but _I'm_ going to go talk to them."

"Fine! You go right ahead! I'll just go…fight a duel with Don Juan!" Jack said wildly. "Have fun with your _new friends_! Don't worry about me, _I'll_ be fine!" With that, Jack whirled around and stormed off into the cornfield.

Will shook his head, and rejoined Paris and Legolas.

"Is he…quite all right?" Paris asked, meaning Jack.

Will shrugged. "Yeah. Just a little daft."

Time passed. Twenty minutes or so. Will spent the time watching the archery contest and comparing battle stories with Paris and Legolas. It was a pleasant way to spend twenty minutes or so. But after that, he decided he had really better go find Jack and make sure he hadn't gotten himself killed.

Actually, Jack found him.

"Will! Hey, Will!" Jack hurried up, another man following more slowly behind him. Jack beamed at Will, argument apparently forgotten, and proudly indicated the man behind him. "Guess what I found?"

Will looked. "What is it?"

"_He_ is Edward. Edward, this is Will."

Edward smiled shyly. "Hello."

"Um, hello," Will said uncertainly.

Edward won the contest for most unusual appearance, quite literally hands down. His pale skin, big sad eyes, and wild black hair aside, his hands alone were enough to win him the title. Because he didn't have hands. He had scissors. Lots and lots of scissors.

Jack, meanwhile, was looking distinctly smug. "_Edward_ knows the way out."

Will's eyebrows rose. "Really? Where?"

Jack glanced at Edward. "It's not really _where_… Prob'ly easiest to just demonstrate. How 'bout it, Edward?"

Edward nodded, and approached the nearest clump of cornstalks. And attacked. The cornstalks vanished in a whir of scissor blades and a flurry of leaves. When the corndust settled, the familiar cornstalk-shape was gone. In its place was a perfectly sculpted moose.

Will gawked. "That's amazing."

"Thank you," Edward said quietly.

"It gets better," Jack promised. He pointed to the solid wall of cornstalks. "That a good spot, Edward?"

Again Edward nodded. Again the flurry of corn leaves. When Edward finished, an archway had appeared in the formerly solid wall. A gothic archway, in fact, complete with flying buttresses. Through the archway, one could see the rest of the cornfield.

Will peered out through the archway. "That's the way out of this part of the cornfield? That's great, Edward, thank you!"

"You're welcome."

Jack rubbed his hands together. "Well, let's get going while the get going is good. Wanna come, Edward? We'll show ye the sights of Port Royal…if I can just avoid hangin', that is."

Edward shook his head. "No, thank you."

Will, already halfway through the arch, paused and looked back. "Wait a minute…everyone else wants to get out of here. You're the only one who can. So…why haven't you?"

Edward smiled. "I like it here."

Jack, who could never long be happy in a confined place, blinked at him. "Why?"

Edward was silent a long moment before answering. "Because…out there…I'm different. In here, I'm still different, but…everyone else is also a little…" He paused and thought a moment, then smiled. "Quirky."

Jack and Will considered.

"He has a point," Jack acknowledged.

"Yes," Will agreed.

"But I have a ship. Time to go. Look me up if you're ever in Tortuga, Edward. An' ye can tell everybody else in here that too… 'cept for the guy with the corn."

And with that, Jack and Will ducked through the gothic archway (with flying buttresses) and left that most unique section of the cornfield.

Again for clarification purposes, the characters appearing here are as follows: Johnny characters consisted of Sam from _Benny and Joon_, J. M. Barrie from _Finding Neverland_ (still in theaters, everyone go see it, it's wonderful!), Edward D. Wood, Jr. from _Ed Wood_, John Wilmot (the drunk man with the wig) from _The Libertine_ , Don Juan from _Don Juan de Marco_, and Edward Scissorhands from, well, _Edward Scissorhands_. Orlando characters consisted of Legolas Greenleaf from _Lord of the Rings_ and Paris from _Troy_. shrug I've seen eleven Johnny movies and three Orlando movies, Pirates included. It kinda shows.

Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed! And for those concerned about the fate of our beloved other characters still trapped in the cornfield, my thoughts on it are that this is one of those peculiar places in the world that only exists while you're there. It started existing when Jack and Will wandered in, had those particular characters because the two of them were there, and stopped existing when they left. Sending everyone else back to lives and/or girlfriends. And sending me on to write the next chapter, and you on to the review button. Please?


	12. Nicknames and Corn

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. None whatsoever. Well…except for a very briefly appearing character at the end of the chapter. Otherwise, ain't mine.

Greetings and pleasant day to you all. Welcome back to another round of utter plotlessness and illogic in the cornfield! But first, to business. Last chapter had no quote, so I can't exactly address that. This chapter is compensating by being extremely quote-happy. I didn't plan it, it just happened. There are two quotes from Johnny movies (both quite well-known movies but one a rather obscure quote) as well as three quotes from un-Johnny-related sources. I don't know how it happened. It just did.

A few replies to reviewers: to Damelo: Congratulations on giving me the first flame I can recall. If you better appreciate other varieties of fics, enjoy them and don't read mine, but you probably aren't reading this anyway; to MyOnlyCat: I quite agree, it is plotless; to everyone else: I'm glad you're enjoying my strange ramblings, Ialways appreciate your support,have fun with the next chapter!

Chapter the Twelfth

Edward was very good at creating exits. Not only did the gothic archway (with flying buttresses) lead out of that most unique section of the cornfield, it led out of the cornfield entirely. Jack and Will only had a moment to savor the wide-open spaces of the fields though.

"White wigs by moonlight," Jack muttered, looking off a ways. "We better get outta here."

"Why do we always come out of the cornfield right near a lot of soldiers?" Will demanded.

"Quirk of the cornfield. Also, plot device. We can't actually _leave_, 'cause that would be the end o' the story."

Will blinked. "Oh. So…back once more to the cornfield?"

Jack nodded, and strode briskly down yet another row—a different one from the gothic archway. "Down that path into darkness deep as Hell."

Will was looking at him funny.

"What?"

"Nothing."

The darkness probably wasn't as deep as Hell, but it was pretty dark. And it was a long path. And a big cornfield. And Jack wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea of continuing to wander for the rest of his life. Which feeling was a contributing factor when Jack suddenly sighed and sat down. Will had to work very hard not to crash into him and go tumbling around the cornfield. Tripping over pirates is _never_ a good idea.

"What are you doing?" Will asked.

"I'm thinkin'."

"About?" Will prompted.

"Life."

"Slightly more specific…"

"Well…" Jack frowned and rubbed his neck. "I'm tryin' to decide if I'd really rather deal with the cornfield than with Norrington. 'cause Norrington might hang me, but there's no tellin' what the cornfield might throw at me. Guess it's sort o' decidin' between a noose an' a flying salad bowl."

"Oh." Will sat down next to him. "Yeah, that's a tough question, one we all have to face sometime." He didn't notice the strange look Jack gave him. "So what are you going to do?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno. It's all Norrington's fault. Rotten ol' Norrie."

Will blinked. "_Norrie_?"

"Right. Norrie. The man needs a nickname badly." Jack shrugged again. "Something to counter the pompous hair. Really. If ye want to look threatening, don't wear curls."

Will snickered. "It is a rather horrible wig, isn't it?"

Jack grinned. "Makes 'im look like an ice cream cone."

"Or a ping-pong ball."

"Dunno 'ow 'e ever made it through the ranks o' the Royal British Navy lookin' like an ice cream cone," Jack wondered. "Added to a boring name like Norrington. If 'e 'ad a cool nickname, that would be diff'rent. Maybe I ought to mention the 'Norrie' to 'im. Not that it's all that cool, but it's somethin'."

"Why 'Norrie'?"

"Because."

"I like 'Norro' better," Will decided.

Jack frowned. "Norro?"

"It's stronger than Norrie. Norrie sounds like a little boy."

"But it goes so well with the Norr_ing_ton," Jack argued. "It's a more natural shortenin'."

"But Norro sounds tougher," Will countered. "Sort of a cave man mentality. Norro. It's tough."

"Maybe we could just call 'im Nor."

"Nor…hmm."

"Sure. Nor. As in 'neither, nor,' 'ignore,' and 'Norway.'"

"All right. Nor."

They sat in silence for a long moment.

"So…what are we going to do about Nor?" Will asked.

Jack sighed, and heaved back to his feet. "We're gonna go fight the salad bowl and leave Nor to his own devices. For right now anyway."

They wandered on.

"It can't really be this hard to get out of a cornfield," Will commented shortly later.

"I don' think it really is," Jack mused. "I think we're probably past the point of believability on that aspect o' the story."

Will considered. "So…does that mean we have to actually escape the cornfield now?"

Jack shook his head. "Nah, just means we have to ask fer suspension o' disbelief from the readers. Which shouldn't be too hard…in most ways we passed the point o' believability when the elephant landed in chapter one."

"Yeah, there's tha…wait. We weren't there to see the flying pink elephant land on Norrington, we don't have any way of knowing about that."

Jack was momentarily stumped.

"Maybe we should cut the joke," Will suggested.

"No, no, can't cut jokes. We don't have a plot so if we start cuttin' jokes we stop existin', an' that would be a _problem_." Jack nodded firmly. "Suspension o' disbelief. A wonderful thing. So we made a joke 'bout something we don't know about. So we've been wanderin' in an' out o' a cornfield for hours an' hours an' _hours_. So elephants fall out o' the sky. So we're aware o' the readers. _Suspension o' disbelief_."

"Jack…"

"Yeah?"

"_No one's_ that believing!"

"Sure they are. After all, an entire movie-going public believed that Elizabeth'd rather marry you than me." Jack smiled pleasantly at him, then walked off down the row.

It took Will a minute. "_Wait_…"

Jack grinned, glancing over his shoulder at Will. "Don't get out o' joint, I take it back. Just a joke, mate."

Will frowned. "Well…all right."

"Suspension o' disbelief indeed," Jack murmured to himself. Fortunately, Will didn't hear him.

"Y'know, it would probably be easier for the readers to believe that we can't find a way out of the cornfield if we at least put on a good show of _trying_ to find a way out," Will commented.

Jack frowned. "The whole point o' suspending disbelief is that things don't _have_ to be believable."

"Still, we should try to limit how unbelievable things are, or people might stop believing them."

Jack shrugged. "Alright. So let's see…why haven't we gotten out o' the cornfield so far?"

"Because every time we _do_ get out, Norrington is there."

Jack nodded. "Right. So what're we going to do about that?"

Silence. They both thought about it.

"We could kill him," Jack suggested.

"We can't, he's probably in the sequel."

"Oh yeah, there's that." Jack considered some more. "Alright, I'm havin' another thought…we'll separate."

"That'll help?"

"Absolutely. We'll go in opposite directions, sooner or later we'll both come out of the cornfield in two different places, and Norrington can't possibly be in both places and catch both of us."

Will thought about it. "Maybe…"

"I agree, it's brilliant. At most, Norrington'll only catch one of us. Hopefully you."

"_Thanks_, Jack."

Jack looked hurt. "What? It's only practical. We _know_ Norrington wants to hang me, he only _might_ want to hang you. An' besides, Governor Swann'll rescue his son-in-law, I'll have to rescue myself. Not that I can't, o' course, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, so—"

"Fine, Jack," Will interrupted, hastily cutting off that line of conversation. "It's fine."

"Right then. So you go that way an' I'll go this way, savvy?"

"Savvy," Will agreed.

Jack blinked at him, then shook his head slowly. "No."

"No what?"

"No savvy. It sounds weird coming from you. You're too respectable looking."

"Um…thank you?"

"Right. So you go that way an' I'll go this way, savvy?"

Will stared at him. "Understood?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, that's good. So let's go."

They each managed about two steps in their designated directions before Jack halted abruptly. "Wait."

Will looked back over his shoulder. "Now what?"

"What if we need to hunt each other up again?"

Will considered. "I guess we won't be able to. Oh well." He turned to go again.

"What if there's a killer mattress coming?"

Will shrugged. "I don't know…shout or something."

"We could sing. As a sorta signal y'know."

At that one, Will turned all the way back around. "_Why_?"

"'cause I'd know it was you and you'd know it was me an' we'd both know it wasn't Norrington."

Will took a few seconds to run through that to make sure he had it straight before he dared to comment. "That's fine, but there's got to be an easier way to do that than to _sing_."

"Sure, but there's lots o' really great pirate songs out there. They were underused in the movie."

"Jack…"

"Really, what good is a pirate who doesn't know any pirate songs?"

"Jack…"

"Even a short one or two?"

"Jack…"

"Ye can get great effect out of just a line or two. Like when ye start shivering sails."

Will blinked. "What?" That was a mistake.

Jack took that as his cue to sing the relevant line. "Shiver my timbers, shiver my sails, _dead men tell no tales_."

POP.

"Gah! I've been _shot_!" Jack shrieked, clutched his chest, and fell to the ground.

Will blinked. "Jack?"

Jack realized a very important fact. "I'm not dead." He leaped to his feet. "Why aren't I dead?"

"I don't know, but—"

POP.

"Gah!" Jack flung himself down again. As he was still not dead, he was soon back on his feet.

"Jack, I think you're overreacting a little," Will said carefully. "Maybe your nerves are a little—"

POP.

"Gah!"

"—overwrought," Will finished. "Maybe you should…breathe. A little."

"What do ye mean I should _breathe_, I'd like to see you breathe while someone's shoot—"

POP.

"Gah!"

"Jack, pull yourself together!" Will ordered.

"Why?" Jack looked around wildly. "Are parts of me walking away?"

"No, I just meant…" Will decided not to even bother. "I don't think anyone's shooting, is all. It doesn't sound like shooting. It sounds like popping."

"But what would be popping in the middle of a cornfie—"

POP.

"Gah!"

It was only when Jack, in the process of flinging himself to the ground (again), came across the kernel of popcorn that things started to make just a little bit of sense.

Jack picked up the popcorn, and squinted at it. "The corn is popping…?"

"That's it," Will said flatly, "we need to get out of here, and soon, before we both become absolutely daft."

Jack looked at him blankly. "_Become_?"

"Well…it's a little late for some of us," Will admitted, "but…"

"Right, an' I want to find out where all the poppin' corn is coming from," Jack said firmly. "Sounds like the noise is comin'—"

POP.

Jack flinched but stayed on his feet. "—from that direction. Let's go see."

"Jack, let's just get out of here while we still _can_."

"You have no sense of adventure," Jack accused him.

"I do so," Will said defensively.

"Good!" Jack beamed at him. "Let's see about the corn then." He nodded decisively, turned, and started pushing his way through the cornstalks.

There wasn't much Will could do except follow. To do any less would have risked aspersions on his sense of adventure. So follow he did, and after a moment or two they got through the cornstalks (none of these were the biting kind) and came out in a small clearing. In the middle of which was a monstrous pile of popcorn. And a foot. Sticking out from under the popcorn.

"Do you think that's attached to a person?" Jack asked.

Will was mildly horrified. "Well I hope so!"

"Dunno, let's see," Jack said, and started shoving popcorn about.

After a surprisingly short of time—or maybe not, I don't know how long it takes to actually uncover someone from under a pile of popcorn—Jack successfully unearthed (or unpopcorned) a man wearing a black tuxedo and bowtie. He had fluffy brown hair, a fairly large nose, and a small gold statue in one hand.

Jack looked at him distastefully. "Oh. You."

Will looked at both of them. "You know each other?"

"Indirectly," Jack acknowledged.

The man in the popcorn extended the hand not holding the statue. "Hello. I'm Sean Penn."

Jack elbowed Will. "No shaking hands," he hissed, "the fangirls don' like him."

Will blinked. "The who?"

"Not the band. The fangirls."

Will stared at Jack for a moment, then gave up on understanding. Not for the first time that evening. He turned to Sean Penn instead. "It's not really my concern, but how exactly did you end up under a pile of popcorn?"

Sean Penn—who, by the way, was still lying mostly covered in corn—considered. "I don't actually know. I was at the Academy Awards…I was about to give my acceptance speech for the Best Actor Award…and then I was attacked by massive quantities of flying popcorn."

Jack nodded knowingly. "This is how it happens to people."

"How _what_ happens? And what do you mean _this_ is how, how _is_ this?" Will demanded, then stopped to figure out what he had just said.

"_This_ is how. When ye win an Oscar against Johnny Depp, the fangirls get mad. Popcorn flies."

"And…how do you know any of this?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. An' I've got suspension o' disbelief workin' for me. An' the author couldn't think o' any way to explain it 'cept to have me do it."

"I need to get out of here," Will said bleakly.

"True. So, you go that way, I go this way, agreed?"

"Fine, but what about him?" Will asked, indicating Sean Penn.

"He's fine," Jack said dismissively. "An' anyway, unless we get _real_ lucky, Jamie Foxx'll be keeping 'im company in a month. So let's go. See you 'round, if we don't get hanged first."

And on that somewhat odd parting comment, Jack and Will finally went in different directions, leaving the still-popcorn-covered Sean Penn behind.

Jack didn't have to walk very long before something else happened. That seemed to be the nature of the cornfield. This time he encountered a truly alarming, frightening and disturbing entity—Commodore James Norrington.

Jack looked at him, thoroughly perturbed. "_You're _not s'posed to be here. You're s'posed to be _outside_ the cornfield."

"I entirely agree," Norrington said dryly. "Unfortunately I ventured a few steps within, and can't seem to find my way back out."

Jack nodded wisely. "Nature o' the cornfield. Strange place, this."

"Indeed," Norrington agreed, then drew his sword. "And by the way, you're under arrest."

"That wasn't fair!" Jack protested, mildly outraged. "We were havin' a perfectly friendly conversation an' you took advantage o' the opportunity to outdraw me!"

"I fail to see the injustice in the situation."

"You would," Jack muttered. "Ye ain't gonna get away with it, y'know."

"Get away with…arresting and hanging you?"

Jack nodded his assent.

"I am a Commodore of the Royal British Navy, pursuing my duty within the bounds of the law. I am not 'getting away' with anything."

"You still ain't gonna get away with it. My crew's floating around…somewhere…around here," Jack said, gesturing haphazardly about the cornfield.

"Good, I can arrest all of them," Norrington said promptly.

Jack threw up his hands. "Well if yer gonna take _that_ attitude about it, there's just nothin' for me to do."

"I quite agree on that poi—"

"Except apologize," Jack interrupted.

Norrington blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Jack bowed over folded hands. "I want to apologize. For all of us. Sincerely."

Norrington looked at him doubtfully. "What for?"

"For whatever it is you're here to accuse us of."

"Ah. That includes but is not limited to: smuggling, sailing under false colors, arson, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England, kidnapping—"

Jack had a pained expression. "Yer off script. That was yer cue to tell me ye weren't accusin' us of anything."

Norrington's eyebrows rose and he kept talking. "—looting, poaching, brigandage, pilfering, depravity, depradation—"

Jack was disgusted. "That's enough."

"—and general lawlessness," Norrington concluded.

"Do you spend yer time memorizin' this or somethin'? 'Cause you need to find yerself a girl, mate."

"I do not need to find myself a girl," Norrington snapped.

Jack frowned. "Yer not a eunach, are you?"

Commodore James Norrington turned an interesting shade of mauve. "Mr. Sparrow, you have a remarkable penchant for _straying from the topic_!"

Jack was unperturbed. "An' you have a penchant to forget somethin' very important." He leaned forward. "It's Captain. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. Cap-tain. Only two syllables. E'en you can 'andle it."

Norrington gave him a look of intense irritation. "Mister Sparrow, I think—"

"Do ye now? I didn't know. An' ye still missed the 'captain.'"

Norrington tried again. "Mr. Sparrow, I—"

"Captain."

"_Mister_ Sparrow—"

"_Captain_."

Norrington was somewhat frustrated. "Listen, pirate, you—"

"Pirate captain."

"Honestly, Jack, can't—!"

"Captain Jack," Jack said placidly.

Norrington glared at Jack for a long moment, then gave up. "'Captain' Sparrow, I—"

"Thank you."

Norrington rolled his eyes and pressed on. "I think that…that…" Norrington stopped. "I've completely forgotten what I was going to say."

"Pity," Jack said sympathetically. "Want me to think of a topic?"

"Not really, no," Norrington said sourly.

Jack leaned forward, and somehow contrived to capture the atmosphere of a café set in 1940s Morocco. "You despise me, don't you, James?"

Norrington's eyes were on the roll again. "I don't despise you, Jack."

Jack beamed. "I knew ye'd warm up to me!"

"I don't _care_ enough to despise you."

"Now hold on. Ye want to hunt me down an' hang me. If that's not despi…despite…disposition…" Jack frowned. "What's the noun form of despise?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah, I had this nice sentence and now I can't say it." Jack considered the matter sadly for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, ye want to hunt me down an' hang me. If that doesn't show ye despise me, I dunno what _does_. An' if ye _don't_ despise me, why do ye want to hunt me down an' hang me?"

Norrington gave him a withering look. "You're a _pirate_."

Jack grinned, hat tipped over his eyes. "You say that like it's a _bad_ thing."

Norrington looked at him incredulously. "You rob from and terrorize innocent people, you openly flout the king's law, you lead a life of complete depravation, you drag down the moral standards of the entire society—"

"Now hold up," Jack protested, hands up in a staying gesture. "I don' insult _your_ career choice. Yer wig choice, maybe, but not yer career choice."

"I'm a commodore of the Royal British Navy!"

"See how much restraint I'm showin' not sayin' anything?"

"This is absurd," Norrington said abruptly, raising his sword a few inches higher. "You're under arrest for piracy, turn around and start walking until we find the way out of here."

Jack folded his hands, tilted his head, and gave Norrington his best puppy-dog eyes from beneath a thick layer of eyeliner. "So yer goin' to clap me in irons an' hang me, eh?"

"Precisely," Norrington said coldly. "Now go."

"Well, it's a sad day," Jack said sorrowfully. Then he reached up, removed his hat to lay it over his heart, and said two words. "Get 'im."

A brown-furred, red-eyed, sharp-toothed and bushy-tailed demon launched off of Jack's head and leaped for Norrington in a whirling cloud of claws and fur.

Jack tipped his hat to the Commodore and set it back on his head, then turned and headed off. Norrington was too distracted to notice. He was busy defending against Rodney the squirrel, who had been waiting quietly under Jack's hat since chapter six, and now wanted to destroy someone.

_A few further notes now that everything's been read: The strategically placed gunshot-like sound and Jack's subsequent reaction ("Gah! I've been shot!") are directly inspired by my friend Scarlet Shade's fic, "Carpe Diem," available on this site and recommended. Sean Penn's arrival in the cornfield buried under popcorn is a definite reflection of my and my friends' reaction to the Oscars last year—popcorn flying. With awards season back around, I was thinking of it again and Sean Penn arrived. Expect Jamie Foxx soon. Well, maybe, if he fits into our non-plot. And as for Rodney…he and I have been biding our time for awhile until I figured most of you had forgotten that Jack still had a squirrel under his hat. Or leastwise, weren't thinking much about it anymore. : ) And that's all for now, reviews always appreciated, see you all next chapter!_


	13. Meetings and Attackings

Disclaimer: It's not mine. Well, a lot of it IS, but the characters are not. They belong to Warner Bros., Disney, and Gaston Leroux. Respectively, of course.

Quotes. Oh dear heavens, to recap all the quotes. The last chapter was exceedingly quote-happy. deep breath Here goes.

The Johnny quotes: "Suspension of disbelief" is a topic also discussed in Ed Wood…which I completely forgot about when writing this, so that one snuck in by accident. Thank you for pointing that out and congrats to DeppDRACOmaniac, who also got another quote: "I want to apologize. For all of us. Sincerely." "What for?" "For whatever it is you're here to accuse us of." Which is from Chocolat and said by the wonderful Roux. Congrats also to Flying Sparrow for that one. The last Johnny-quote is: "This is how it happens to people" which is actually a line in Secret Window. Mort's conscience says it to Mort…near the end. No further comment, wouldn't want to give things away. Yeah, it's obscure, I know. I just like the way Johnny says it. And…I don't think anyone guessed that one. Oh well.

The random quotes: "Down that path into darkness deep as Hell" is from _Phantom of the Opera_. (congrats to Purple-Dreamer-Star and ChaosLightning13 for getting this one!) The song about "Dead men tell no tales" is from Muppet Treasure Island. And finally, "You despise me, don't you, James?" is a paraphrase of a line in _Casablanca_, which is a _wonderful_ movie. And that is all for the quotes. This chapter isn't nearly as quote-full. We're back to just one Johnny quote, I believe.

Some rapid fire responses to reviews: Thank you all, I'm so glad you review, I completely love Roux the gorgeous Irish gypsy, I'm always proud of pointless randomness, and I generally refer to Commodore James Norrington as Norrie myself. On to the chapter.

**Chapter the Thirteenth**

After unleashing a squirrel on Norrington, Jack wandered on. He didn't wander very far though, before he decided to sit down due to a defect in his profession. He wasn't a soldier. He was a sailor. Soldiers march. Sailors…sail. Sailors walk as much as the next person, but they don't usually spend an entire night walking in a cornfield. In other words, Jack's feet hurt.

So when he came upon a conveniently-placed log in a conveniently-placed clearing, he sat down. Jack figured he could afford the time. Norrington was behind him somewhere, so therefore, once he found the way out, leaving the cornfield should now be simple. If the thought crossed his mind that nothing in the cornfield so far had been simple, he ignored it.

It probably also should have crossed his mind, after a few hours in the cornfield, that sitting down for any length of time and expecting nothing to happen was, well…not probable. In this case, two decidedly odd looking individuals arrived.

One man was deathly pale, with dark, bobbed hair. He was wearing a maroon coat, a purple top hat, and lavender gloves. He was, however, not the stranger-looking of the two. The other should have appeared more ordinary; he was wearing a not extraordinary suit, and had average enough features, big eyes and a shock of dark hair. Except that he was considerably smaller than the others, and he wasn't, exactly, live-action.

"Have you seen a lot of men with dark eyes and sharp cheekbones?" the man in purple asked with a brilliant smile.

Jack was staring at both of them. "Uh…"

The not-quite-live-action man apparently thought he was unsure. "There was probably someone with a big dog…and someone else with a guitar…oh, and a guy with scissors for hands."

Jack went on staring. He had been handling the oddities of the cornfield quite well so far (witness his fairly calm acceptance of the carnivorous mattress back in Chapter Two) but, well…these two were something else again. "Yeah, uh, I saw all of 'em…back there, awhile ago."

The smaller man turned to his companion. "I told you, we are late."

The other man shrugged. "It isn't our fault that we got caught in post production."

"Who are you?" Jack asked.

The man in purple made an elaborate bow. "I am Willy Wonka," he introduced himself, and produced a brightly wrapped bar from one pocket. "Chocolate?"

"No thanks," Jack said carefully. It was never wise to take food from people who had every earmark of being entirely insane. Of course, there were those who would call Jack insane—and perhaps he was—but Willy Wonka was clearly taking insanity possibilities into new areas. The manic grin was enough to attest to that.

"And I'm Victor," the other man introduced in turn. "Pronounced the way Dracula said it in _Van Helsing_. You know…VEEK-tor."

"Really," Jack said vaguely, not meaning much of anything by the word. He was still trying to figure out what to make of this not-quite-human human.

Victor frowned. "Well, no, not really. At least, probably not. But no one says my name in the preview, so the general public doesn't really know how it's pronounced yet. So I say that it's pronounced the way Dracula says it to make the fangirls happy."

Jack wasn't really listening. He was squinting at Victor. "So are you a…drawing?" he guessed.

"Stop motion animation, actually," Victor said pleasantly.

This meant nothing to Jack. "Oh."

"Since we've missed our chapter anyway, we should make a discreet exit," Willy Wonka proposed. Which may lead one to wonder how a man wearing that shade of purple could possibly do anything discreetly.

"And it's hard to have a conversation when your movie's not out yet anyway," Victor agreed.

"Pleasant to meet you," Willy Wonka said to Jack, and then he and Victor disappeared into the depths of the cornfield.

Jack stared after them for a moment, then finally he shrugged. It was, after all, a strange cornfield. He was just about to get to his feet and continue on when another figure appeared on the edge of the clearing. A very short figure.

Jack blinked. "Rodney?"

"Chatter."

Jack had a sudden, unsettling thought. "Wait, if you're here, where's Norrington?"

"Chatter chatter chatter. Chatter," Rodney explained, and Jack relaxed.

"Oh, went the other way, huh? Good, I'll keep goin' the opposite d'rection."

"Chatter chatter?" Rodney asked, scampering closer to where Jack was still sitting on the conveniently placed log.

"'course ye can come with me."

"Chatter!" Rodney jumped from the ground to Jack's knee, and from there to his shoulder.

"Right then." Jack stood up, and strolled off down the row, squirrel on his right shoulder. "So did ye destroy 'is commodoreship, or just damage 'im a little?"

"Chatter chatter CHATTER chatter," Rodney said dramatically, waving his paws about in what was either pantomime or emphasis. "Chatter chatter…chatter!" He clutched his side in what was definitely pantomime, stumbled jerkily about, and staggered backwards right off Jack's shoulder. Jack caught him in one hand and carefully put him back.

"That bad, huh?"

"Chatter," Rodney agreed.

"'course, he couldn't o' been too destroyed if 'e walked away," Jack observed.

"Chatter chatter!" Rodney said indignantly.

"No no no no no, I didn't mean nothin' by it!" Jack protested. "Ye done real well!"

"Chatter."

"Ye know, I could use somebody like you."

"Chatter?"

"Ye ever think 'bout bein' a pirate?"

"Chatter!" Rodney said, with accompanying elaborate grimaces and gagging noises.

"Oh. Seasick, eh?"

"Chatter."

"Pity. Want to hang 'round while I'm on land though?"

"Chatter chatter?"

"Well, ye might get a chance to destroy someone else. Depends." Jack thought about it for a moment. "Maybe ye could destroy Gillette."

"Chatter?"

"Norrie's flunky. A lot like 'im, but more curls."

"Chatter," Rodney said disapprovingly.

"Yeah. It's rather…stupid. So do ye want to ride in the hat again?"

"Chatter chatter."

"My hair is not unwashed!"

Rodney looked him in the eye. "Chatter."

Jack fingered one braid. "Well, mebbe a little unwashed."

"Chatter," Rodney agreed.

Jack glanced down at his coat. "How 'bout a pocket then?"

Rodney looked at him warily. "Chatter chatter?"

"No, I ain't gonna accident'lly crush ye!"

"Chatter."

"Well, we'll see 'bout it, right?"

"Chatter chatter," Rodney confirmed, and the two continued on.

Elsewhere in the cornfield, Commodore Norrington was having a bad day. Even if it was technically night.

So far, he'd been landed on by a pink elephant, struck by a Nerf harpoon, hit in the head by a flying salad bowl, sat on by Elizabeth, and attacked by a squirrel. Definitely not one of his better days.

He did have some slight luck at this point though. Norrington and Jack had gone in opposite directions, and it proved to be Norrington who had chosen the direction that led more quickly to the edge of the cornfield. And once he got out of the cornfield, the same rule that had applied to everyone else applied just as well to him. That is, he came out right around a lot of soldiers. Except that Norrington, unlike everyone else, was reasonably glad to see them. Which didn't mean he wasn't still having a bad day, because he was.

Lt. Gillette and an unspecified number of soldiers converged on Norrington as soon as he appeared, formed a neat line, and saluted in unison.

"Men," Norrington said tiredly, nodding to them.

"Ah, are you…all right, Commodore?" Gillette asked, sounding concerned.

Norrington was abruptly brought to realize what he must look like. He was limping rather badly, his coat had a rip in it, he was marked by squirrel-scratches, and—horror upon horrors—his wig was askew. He thought about trying to pull together all the dignity he had left, then decided it just wasn't worth the trouble. "I was attacked by a squirrel."

The soldiers exchanged glances. "A squirrel, Commodore?" Gillette said carefully.

Norrington saw the glances, and they bothered him. "Yes, a squirrel," he said shortly. "An evil squirrel."

Even more glances went around. "Oh, an evil squirrel," Gillette said, nodding slowly.

Norrington's patience was, essentially, gone. He snapped. "Don't look at me like that, I know what I'm talking about! I was attacked by an evil squirrel! That bloody rotten Sparrow's got a bloody rotten squirrel working for him and he attacked me!"

"Maybe you should sit down, Commodore…" Gillette said faintly.

"Contrary to what you are thinking, I have not lost my mind!" Norrington was shouting by this point. "I have been wandering in and around an insane cornfield chasing an insane pirate all bloody night, but I am not insane!"

"Uh, Commodore—" Gillette began.

"And don't interrupt me!" If Norrington noticed that Gillette—and all the other soldiers—seemed to be looking past him, he was too upset to care. "If I say I was attacked by an evil squirrel, I was attacked by an evil squirrel!"

"But, Commodore—" Gillette tried again.

"The entire world may run mad, but I happen to know exactly what I'm talking about so don't interrupt me and that's an order, lieutenant!"

Gillette kept doggedly on. "But I'm just trying to warn you—"

"What could you possibly have to warn me about!"

At that moment a giant tumbleweed rolled out of the cornfield and flattened Commodore Norrington.

Meanwhile, Jack and Rodney had yet to find a way out, and so were still walking through the cornfield. Actually, Jack was walking; Rodney was still riding on his shoulder. Their progress through the cornfield was abruptly halted when there was movement on the right. A blue, almost bird-like face, draped with a few strands of seaweed, emerged from between two stalks of corn less than a foot from Jack's face.

"I am the ghost of Samuel Arrow," the blue face intoned in a deep, booming voice.

Jack (and Rodney) stared at him. The ghost stared back. A long moment stretched past in tense silence.

The ghost got tired of waiting. "BOOGIE!" he bellowed.

Jack shrieked and leapt backwards, falling through the next row of corn, limbs flailing.

The ghost of Samuel Arrow grinned and flipped seaweed out of his eyes. "Gets 'em every time." Then he melted away back into the shadows.

While Samuel Arrow was busy melting, Jack was sprawled on his back in the next row of corn. He seemed to be spending a lot of time on the ground this evening. Peculiar. There were other things to think about, however.

Jack looked around him. "Rodney?"

A newly-formed lump in one of his pockets twitched.

"Oh," Jack said, and gave the lump a pat. It seemed the squirrel had dived for safety while Jack was flailing about. Rodney showed no signs of coming out any time soon, so Jack checked on Hector's condition—still in one hand and showing no greater damage than a lost leaf or two. Still, constantly carrying a bonsai was getting a little inconvenient. Jack peered into the pocket with the squirrel. "Got room for a tree in there?"

"Chatter," came the muffled reply.

"Alright, I'll put 'im in a different pocket," Jack said agreeably, and did. Having taken care of both his recently-found friends, he set about looking around him a little more, just to get the lay of the land, you know. And that was when he noticed the cornstalk.

Of course, he was surrounded by cornstalks, and had been for hours. But as he sprawled there, he found himself looking up at an extraordinarily large cornstalk.

Jack stood up, none the worse for the fall through the corn, and found that, even standing, this still appeared as an extremely large cornstalk. It was also dead. Brown, crackling, undeniably dead. For no particularly good reason, Jack reached a hand out and poked it.

And then the cornstalk attacked.

Jack hit the ground again in a flurry of flying corncobs, managed to draw his sword despite lying half on top of it (hey, he's Captain Jack Sparrow, he's got talents) and took a swing at the cornstalk.

That's when he discovered that besides being brown and dead, the cornstalk was also decidedly hard. The sword blow had no effect, except to jar Jack considerably. Upon which Jack said a few terribly rude things that we won't include so as to preserve our G-rating.

The situation was bad. Corn was flying, the cornstalk appeared potentially lethal, and Jack's usual weaponry was ineffective. Jack badly needed time to regroup and reassess what could be done. Obviously, there was only one thing to do under the circumstances.

"Look!" Jack yelled. "A three-headed monkey!"

And amazingly enough, the cornstalk actually halted its attack for a moment to look into this supposed monkey. Jack didn't waste time but scrambled to his feet and hightailed it down the path. After only a few moments, the cornstalk realized it had been duped and followed him. Fortunately, Jack was faster. However, one cannot run from enormous dead cornstalks forever. Jack intended to try it for a good long while though.

Jack pelted down the row of corn and came to a sudden halt when he ran headlong into someone. In Jack's defense, the someone was dressed all in black (though very elegantly, complete with elaborate cloak) and therefore blended into the shadows somewhat. The white half-mask he was wearing ought to have shown up a bit though. Jack smacked straight into him anyway.

Jack scrambled back to his feet, while the other man stood up more carefully, smoothing his hair back into place as he did. "Watch where you're going," the masked man said, irritated.

"Run for your life!" Jack said wildly.

"Uh…"

Jack grabbed him by the collar. "I'm being pursued by an evil cornstalk of death, bent on mayhem and destruction! Why are you still standing here!"

From the depths of his cloak the masked man produced a thin lasso. "Let go of my collar, and don't make me use this," he said, voice dangerously soft.

Jack glanced at the noose hanging very close to his left ear. "Yeah. Been there, done that, had the platform o' the gallows drop out from under me. I ain't impressed. But there happens to be an evil cornstalk of death chasing me right now, so—"

"And people think I'm insane."

"Will ye listen to me, there's an evil…" Jack trailed off, looking at him. "An' why are ye starin' over my shoulder like somethin' really, really bad just came into view?"

"There's—"

"—an evil cornstalk of death?"

"Yes."

Jack nodded. "Run."

They did. Pounded off down the row of corn together.

"Y'know, so long as we're fleein' for our lives together, what's yer name?" Jack asked as they ran.

"I'm Erik."

"I'm Jack. Nice to meet ye."

"Likewise."

They kept running. The evil cornstalk of death kept following.

Some rows of corn go on until they let out into a larger field. Others don't. Some end up in dead ends. This one was one of those ones.

"Tha's not good…" Jack said, looking at the solid mass of cornstalks.

"So we'll just have to fight the cornstalk, right?" Erik said, pacing around in a circle.

"Right," Jack said, still looking at the solid corn barring his way.

"So how do we do it? Swords?"

"Won' work, I tried."

"Oh. All right, that's fine." Erik kept pacing. "Punjab?"

"India?"

"No, lasso."

Jack blinked. "What?"

"My Punjab lasso. I prefer it to a sword anyway. It's neater. Quieter. I whip it out, send it spinning out towards whoever I'm after, it settles down past their head and onto their neck, one good tug, and…" Erik shrugged expressively.

Jack considered. "It should work. Dunno why it wouldn't work. The evil cornstalks too hard for swords, but a lasso slips 'round it so…"

"It's coming," Erik said suddenly, looking back down the row.

"Alright," Jack said grimly. "You go over on that side o' the row, I'll get over here an' distract it, you get it from behind with yer magic rope thing. Right?"

"Right," Erik agreed.

"Right."

"Right."

And then it was too late to say "right" again, because the cornstalk was upon them. And it was also really rather too late for Erik to realize what he did realize just then.

"Jack, there's a problem!"

"WHAT?"

"It's not built like a person! It doesn't have a head! I can't hang something that doesn't have a head!"

Jack stared at the oncoming evil cornstalk of death. There was nothing to do, and there was only one thing left to say.

"Oh well. Now we must die."

o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o

_Willy Wonka is, naturally, from the upcoming Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (due out in July, I believe) and Victor is from The Corpse Bride (due out next fall), a stop-motion animation film by Tim Burton, with Johnny doing the voice acting for Victor._

_For those who are not fans of Phantom of the Opera...I apologize in advance. It's my most recent obsession, so sooner or later it was sure to turn up here. I adore the Phantom, and let's clarify it right here that he has a first name; it's Erik. That's not in the musical, it's in the book. He's not going to monopolize the story, I promise, but he will be a significant player for the next chapter or so, which I hope will be funny and entertaining even for the non-Phantom fans. Although this will all be irrelevant if, you know, they both die. Have to keep the suspense, of course. : )_

_Other than that…hope you enjoyed the story, happy reviewing! (Please?)_


	14. Phantoms and Cornstalks

Disclaimer: I would love to own Jack, or Erik, or both, but I don't. Will would be open to the highest bidder, except that I don't own him either.

Welcome back to another very random chapter of a very random story! First order of business, last chapter's quote was a slight paraphrase of "Oh well. Now I must die," as said by Don Juan de Marco, in the movie of the same name. Congrats to DeppDRACOmaniac! As I always feel obliged to do when mentioning _Don Juan_, I recommend it, but, fair warning to the teenagers amongst us, probably not something to watch with the parents. Also note, the ghost of Samuel Arrow is out of Muppet Treasure Island, and the three-headed monkey is apparently from Guybrush Threepwood, as Jexxer observed…I didn't know that, I have a friend who always hollers about three-headed monkeys, I thought I was quoting her… Very quick note to those who missed the other quick note that arrived somewhat late at the end of the last chapter (added it, reposted, you know) Willie Wonka is from _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_, Victor is from _The Corpse Bride_, both are due out later this year.

On to the randomness.

**Chapter the Fourteenth**

Walking through the cornfield, Will was looking up. It seemed wise to keep an eye out for salad bowls. And maybe it was wise, except that if he'd looked down he wouldn't have tripped.

Picking himself up, Will looked to see what he had tripped over. He sighed. "Jack."

The pirate captain was sprawled on the ground. Again. He was on his back, and he didn't appear to be conscious. He did look like he was breathing though.

Will leaned over him, and poked his chest. "Jack?"

No response.

Will shook him by the shoulder. "Jack, wake up."

Jack suddenly sat bolt upright, and grabbed Will by the collar. "It was the _cornstalk_."

Will blinked. "Um, yes…of course it was."

"NO! You don't understand!" Jack said wildly. "It was a cornstalk! A dead one!" He yanked Will forward until their faces were less than an inch apart. "HEADLESS!"

Will tried, without a lot of success, to back up a little. "Cornstalks don't have heads, Jack," he said gently.

"Exactly! _Headless_!" That said, Jack's eyes rolled back, his grip on Will's collar loosened, and he fell over unconscious.

Will stared at him. "Uh…Jack?" He shook him by the shoulders again. "Come on, Jack, I'd rather not try to drag you out of here."

Jack was ignoring him, eyes shut, completely dead to the world. Will sighed, shook his head, and straightened up out of the crouch he'd gone into. He didn't exactly relish the idea of dragging Jack around the cornfield. Especially since they were currently at a dead end, which meant a lot of backtracking, and who knows how long it would be before they actually found the way out again. No, hauling an unconscious pirate around wouldn't simplify matters in any way that Will could see. He also couldn't see that it would hurt to walk a little ways back along the row without Jack, just to see if by chance there was an exit somewhere near by.

Will walked exactly three steps, and tripped again. "This isn't my day. Or night," he muttered, picking himself up again. Then he looked to see what he had tripped over this time. It was another person. Erik, specifically, but Will didn't know that. Will studied the unknown (to him) man in black curiously. Although the black opera garb and cloak had nothing on the interest levels of the white half-mask. Without really considering the possibilities or the consequences, Will started to reach for the mask.

One gloved hand closed around Will's wrist. "Don't touch the mask," Erik said softly, "because if you touch the mask, I'll have to kill you." He paused. "And just because I'm talking in clichés, _don't_ think I won't do it."

Will hastily backed up, pulling his hand out of Erik's grip. "All right. I won't touch the mask then."

"Good." Erik sat up, brushing stray strands of hair back from his forehead. "What happened to the cornstalk?"

Will blinked. "You too?"

"Me too what?"

"You and Jack, both with the story about the cornstalk."

"The headless one," Erik agreed, then looked around. "What happened to Jack anyway?"

"He's over there, unconscious."

"Not anymore." The pirate captain sat up, rubbing his head. "Woo…I don't usually feel this way 'less I had twelve or sixteen rums…an' gettin' drunk is a lot more fun than bein' attacked by a headless cornstalk."

"Are you going to start shrieking again?" Will asked warily.

Jack looked at him like he hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about. "No."

Erik was on his feet by now, and looking around with greater care. "Do you think the cornstalk's dead?"

"'course it's dead. It was dead to begin with. It's prob'ly still out there wreaking mayhem and destruction though. But it _is_ dead. Also headless."

"If it had a head we wouldn't have a problem because my Punjab would've—" Erik broke off suddenly, hands going to his pockets. "My Punjab, what happened to…" He looked at the ground around him and seized upon a piece of thin rope. Several pieces of thin rope. Erik looked down at the fragments in his hands. "It killed my Punjab…" he said sadly.

Will rubbed his forehead. "I'm so confused right now."

Jack scrambled up to his feet with a minimum of limb flailing and walked the required three steps to join Will and Erik. "It's simple, really. First there was this blue bird who said he was a ghost, so I went flailing back through some corn and bumped into an evil cornstalk of death which attacked me, an' though I naturally put up a strong fight I eventu'lly had to opt for a strategic retreat during which I ran into Erik here an' hauled him along on my retreatin', but sooner or later we 'ad to fight the evil cornstalk of death, only that didn't go so well because the evil cornstalk of death 'ad the nerve to be headless which kinda interfered with our plans so it attacked again an' it's a mystery to me why we ain't both dead but maybe it thought it had finished us off and left, only 'course it didn't 'cause 'ere we are. Simple, really."

Will stared at him. "I'm so confused right now."

"But it's really very simple. First there was this blue bird who said he was a ghost so I went flailing back—"

"Stop. Let's try a different problem. How are we both here when we went in opposite directions twenty minutes ago?"

Jack considered. "That's a _very_ good question." He rummaged about in the pockets of his coat and pulled out a long, rolled up parchment. "Let's see about this." He unfurled the parchment to reveal a crude map and two dashed lines going in different directions. "So here's where we went in different directions, and then I went on a while and stopped to talk to Norrington, and then kept going this way while he went that way and here's the clearing with the really strange people an' then I walked over here and met the evil cornstalk and then bumped into Erik there, and meanwhile yer still walking off that way, and, uh…by all accounts it doesn't make sense." Jack shrugged. "Oh well." He rolled up the parchment, stuck it back in his pocket, and beamed at Will.

"On second thought…" Will said slowly, "maybe we should just deal with trying to understand the cornstalk right now."

"Oh. Well, first there was this blue bird who said he was a ghost so—"

"Not _you_." Will looked at Erik. "I don't know who you are, but maybe _you_ can explain it."

Erik looked up from his careful gathering of the tattered remnants of his Punjab. He folded them neatly up and slipped them into one of the pockets of his cloak, then considered the question. "I don't know, I think Jack summed it up fairly well."

"Thanks," Will said sourly. "And who are you anyway?"

"Good plan!" Jack approved. "We'll exchange proper introductions before the cornstalk comes back an' kills us all, so we'll at least know who we're dying with."

Erik and Will looked at him oddly. Jack continued unperturbed.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, the most fearsome pirate in the entire Spanish Main."

"I'm Will Turner."

"Full-time blacksmith, part-time pirate," Jack put in helpfully.

Then they both looked expectantly at Erik.

Erik shifted. "I'm Erik, I have a lot of last names but none of them are canon so never mind about that. I'm a composer…and musician…and singer…" He hesitated, apparently fighting a difficult internal battle. "…_and_ I'm the Phantom of the Opera, feel free to take this moment to react in horror and alarm," he finished all in a rush.

Jack and Will looked at each other, then looked at Erik again. "Why?"

Erik stared back. "Because I'm the Phantom. I'm scary. People scream when they see me."

Jack considered. "Are you an attack phantom of death?"

Erik blinked. "Uh…no?"

Jack beamed. "Yer alright by me then."

"Um…thank you."

"Don' mention it."

"So…if it isn't a problem, why is he looking considerably alarmed?" Erik asked, indicating Will.

"'cause there's an evil cornstalk of death coming up behind you," Jack said calmly.

Erik turned fast at that. There was an evil cornstalk of death coming up behind him. "Why didn't you _warn_ me!"

Jack shrugged. "That wouldn't've stopped it from coming."

"There really _is_ an evil cornstalk of death!" That was from Will, who was more than a little surprised by the whole thing.

"We _told_ you," Jack said smugly.

A voice boomed through the cornfield. "WHY ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?"

This time they were _all_ more than a little surprised.

"The cornstalk _talks_?" Jack said, more than a little surprised. "It doesn't have a _head_, how can it have a _mouth_?"

The cornstalk rustled, apparently considering. "PLOT POINT. THE PLOT WON'T GO RIGHT IF I CAN'T TALK."

The others considered. "Can't argue with that," Will acknowledged.

Jack nodded. "Agreed."

"YOU SHOULD BE DEAD," the cornstalk complained. "I THOUGHT YOU _WERE_ DEAD, BUT NOW I'LL JUST HAVE TO KILL YOU _MORE_ DEAD."

"Now wait a minute," Jack interrupted, "ye can't just up an' kill us, we've got rights y'know, an'—"

"_SILENCE_!" the cornstalk thundered. "HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME! I AM NOT JUST _ANY_ EVIL CORNSTALK! I AM _THE_ EVIL CORNSTALK! I AM…THE _ONE_ CORNSTALK, _TO RULE THEM **ALL**_!"

Jack looked at it. "Yeah. Good luck with that. But fact is, condemned men've got rights. B'lieve me, I know 'bout bein' condemned." He started counting points off on his fingers. "Right to a last request, right to final words, right to choose means of death, right to—"

"I AM AN _EVIL_ CORNSTALK! I DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW THE RULES!"

"Even evil cornstalks have to respect a condemned man's rights," Jack said firmly.

"FINE," the cornstalk said sulkily. "PICK ONE."

"Pick one?" Jack repeated.

"YOU GET ONE RIGHT. CHOOSE IT!"

"Ah, now that is a difficult choice, one requiring consideration, evaluation, consultation, adaptation, imagination, contemplation, deliberation, meditation, rumination—"

"YOU TRY MY PATIENCE!" the cornstalk thundered. "MAKE YOUR CHOICE!"

Erik jumped, and stared at the cornstalk. "It stole my line."

Jack, meanwhile, was making his choice. "Right then, we need five minutes to repent of our sins."

Will nearly fell over. "We WHAT?"

Jack elbowed him, with the intent of conveying the message 'hush up and don't do anything stupid,' and kept talking to the cornstalk. "We need time to consider the condition of our immortal souls so we can repent and obtain absolution. The fires of Hell're near at hand, an' it would be just terrible to spend our last moments sunk in the same dissolution and depravity we've been living in."

Will's jaw was hanging somewhere around his ankles. "Who ARE you?"

Jack elbowed him again.

"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES," the cornstalk intoned. "NO MORE."

Jack beamed at it. "Great!" He propelled Erik and Will back towards the dead-end of the row, away from the cornstalk. "'scuse us, we're gonna repent in a group."

They halted in a sort of huddle a short ways from the dead-end. Erik was only mildly confused, Will was still in shock.

"Pick yer jaw up, Will, we gotta talk," Jack ordered.

"Where was that _coming_ from?" Will demanded. "_You_ want to repent of your _sins_?"

"'course not," Jack said dismissively. "I _like_ my sins. But the Navy's clerics're always askin' me if I want time to repent o' my sins 'fore they hang me an' I always turn 'em down, but right now we need time to work up a plan, see?" he explained quietly.

Will exhaled. "_Oh_. _That_ makes sense."

"Right. But let's keep it quiet, that thing's got a lotta ears, y'know," Jack whispered. "So. Anybody got a plan?"

Silence.

Jack sighed. "I was 'fraid o' that. It's just a _cornstalk_, we can fight a cornstalk!"

"Swords?" Will suggested.

Jack shook his head. "Won' work, it's too hard."

"Guns?"

"Too hard for bullets too. 'sides, how do ye find a vital organ in a cornstalk?"

Will frowned. "Hmm."

"There's always hand-to-hand combat," Jack mused. "We all jump it together."

Will blinked. "You're going to use hand-to-hand combat on a _cornstalk_?"

"Do you have a better plan?" Jack demanded.

Will looked down. "…no."

Jack looked at Erik suddenly, who had been silent for the last few minutes, thinking. "What about _you_?" Jack asked. "Yer the scary phantom, right? So do something scary. Ye've gotta have some trick besides the rope thing!"

"I _do_ have a staff that shoots fire."

Jack was delighted. Beyond delighted. "Perfect! We'll burn the dead cornstalk!"

"Except that I kinda left it at home."

Jack moaned.

"But…there _is_ something else I can do…" Erik said slowly. "Maybe."

Jack pounced on it. "Maybe? What is this _maybe_? Talk to me, what can you _do_?"

Erik frowned. "It only works sometimes, and I don't think I'm angry enough."

"The cornstalk's trying to kill you. Be angry," Jack ordered.

Erik shrugged. "Yes, but I've never been all that excited about living anyway."

Jack threw his hands up. "Great!"

"Wait a minute, just give me a minute," Erik protested. "You wouldn't believe how angry I can get when I give it half a try."

"So try! That cornstalk ain't gonna wait forever."

"Shh," Erik directed, eyes shut. "I'm concentrating."

Erik concentrated. Jack and Will paced. After a moment or two, Erik started muttering.

"Yer muttering," Jack informed him.

"I noticed. Be quiet. Wretched viscount."

Jack suspected that wasn't him, and didn't comment.

"ARE YOU FINISHED YET?"

"Not yet! Still repenting, lots of sins!" Jack called back. "Are you finished yet?" he hissed at Erik.

Erik ignored him. "One love, one lifetime," he murmured. "Echoing."

"If you're gonna do something—"

"See how she repaid me," Erik whispered, "denied me and betrayed me."

"I WILL NOT WAIT ANY LONGER."

"I'm about _this_ close to going an' tackling that thing, an' I'm Captain Jack Sparrow so it might even work, but if you _have_ a better plan…"

Erik's eyes snapped open. There was a new, odd gleam in them. "All right. I'm angry," he said quietly.

"I'M _SO_ FRIGHTENED," the cornstalk boomed sarcastically.

Erik slowly walked back towards the cornstalk, Jack and Will following. "Go," Erik said evenly. "Go _now_."

"I THINK NOT," the cornstalk thundered back.

Erik smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. And then, first softly and then growing in strength, he sang. "You will curse the day you did not do…all that the _Phantom_ asked of _you_…" He held the final note far longer than any normal human should be able to, and while he did everything else in the world seemed to freeze and hang suspended. Finally even Erik's breath gave out though. And then he laughed. Maniacally.

Upon which a very large and very heavy pipe organ fell out of an empty sky and flattened the evil cornstalk of death.

"I would _love_ to do that to Norrington sometime," Jack commented.

Will was a little more taken aback. "Were you _expecting_ that?"

"Actually, I was expecting a chandelier." Erik shrugged. "But an organ works too."

"So…you normally have very large objects fall out of the sky when you sing?" The practicalities of this were leaving Will not quite accepting the situation. Jack, on the other hand, was completely accepting.

"Once in a while," Erik answered absently. He was walking around the organ, studying it critically. "I wonder whose organ this is anyway. It isn't mine." H pressed a few keys, played a short melody with one hand. "Well-tuned though." He swept his cloak out of the way and devoted himself to thundering out resounding music.

"Nice," Jack commented. "Dunno how well it would go over in the taverns in Tortuga though."

Will had bigger problems with the music. He stared up at the sky, resigned. "Norrington is going to hear that, and he's going to find us, and he's going to kill us all."

Erik stopped mid-melody. "Who's Norrington?"

"An unfortunate fellow with wig problems," Jack said briskly, "an' if 'e's got half an ear 'e prob'ly heard yer pipe organ land, so we ought to go anyway." He struck off down the row, stopped when he realized he was aiming towards the dead end, turned around, and struck off again in the other direction.

"Come on. When he sets off like that, there's not much to do but follow him," Will told Erik.

Erik shrugged. "I'm not doing anything important right now."

So they followed Jack. Who wasn't going anywhere in particular anyway.

_For the non-Phantom fans who were confused by the falling pipe organ: First, I apologize. Second, I'll explain. Erik has a temper that is really quite frightening once he gets going. He makes himself angry in this scene by muttering lines out of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. Specifically, lines referring to the love triangle of the play which ultimately ended with Raoul, the Viscount de Chagny (editorial comment: HISS), winning away Christine, the girl Erik loved. Sorry if I gave that away for anyone, but I don't think it's much of a secret. The line "You will curse" etc. in the play is immediately followed by a falling chandelier (though not in the recent movie). Which is why Erik expected a chandelier. shrug I like dropping pipe organs. And they're relevant, since Erik has one under the opera house. All right, if anyone cared enough to read all of this, I hope it's clearer, and I'm finished. Really._

_For the Phantom fans: I'm delighted there seems to be a few of you out therebased on reviewsand I hope you'll enjoy Erik's brief sojourn into the cornfield!  
_

_For everyone: As to the next chapter, where will they go next? Who knows? Tune in to find out. Oh, and do be so good as to review. Please?_


	15. Songs and Puddles

Disclaimer: It's not mine, it never has been. Nothing I've ever posted on here has been mine. I wonder how many disclaimers I've written by now? Probably closing on a hundred. Maybe more. I'm running out of creative ways to say I don't own anything. Except the insanity, of course. The insanity is mine, with help from my dear friends.

Quote contest update! Last chapter's deliberately inserted quote was "It's a horseman/cornstalk! A dead one! Headless!" from Sleepy Hollow. "It was dead to begin with" is also from Sleepy Hollow but must have been inserted by my subconscious because I swear I didn't remember that when I wrote it. Congrats to Jenthegypsy, Kalimac and Flying Sparrow, and especially DeppDRACOmaniac who guessed both quotes! Good luck everyone on this chapter's quote…I _think_ there's only one…

Oh, and the ONE cornstalk, to RULE THEM ALL, is paraphrased from Legendary Frog's hilarious online Lord of the Rings cartoon parodies. :)

Onward.

Chapter the Fifteenth

After dropping a pipe organ on the evil cornstalk of death, Jack, Will and Erik wandered on. Jack was remarkably cheerful for a man trying to evade the Navy and his own subsequent hanging. Will was remarkably patient for a man being dragged around a cornfield all night by a daft pirate. And Erik was remarkably calm for a man who had just dropped a pipe organ out of an empty sky in a fit of rage. Will commented upon such—"such" meaning the last item only, not the preceding.

"You're not angry anymore," Will observed.

"No," Erik agreed. "Dropping pipe organs out of the sky is a great way to relieve tension. Try it some time and see."

Will stared at him. "Uh…yeah. I'll do that."

"Too bad it alerted this Norrington person though."

"Yeah, there's that."

"So…why are we avoiding Norrington?"

"He wants to hang Jack," Will explained.

Erik's eyebrows rose. "He hangs people? Does he have a Punjab?"

"India?"

"No. A Punjab."

Will looked confused.

Erik reached into his pocket, grasped the rope he felt there, and pulled it out. "A Punjab." It was then he realized he was holding a very short piece of rope. He frowned at it, remembering with displeasure that his Punjab had died. He sighed, and put the rope back. "A lasso."

"Oh. No, he has a gallows."

"Seems like cheating…that doesn't take much effort."

Will opted not to ask just exactly what that opinion was based on. "Where are you from anyway, Erik?"

"Paris. I'm the Phantom for the Paris Opera House."

"Why?" Jack asked, turning around and walking backwards as he rejoined the conversation behind him. Walking backwards, by the way and relevant to nothing, was, in all likelihood, a bad plan.

"Because. The exact reason sort of depends on who you ask."

"How 'bout if I ask the people who own the Opera House?" 

Erik grinned, a slightly malicious grin. "They'd tell you it's because I'm insane. A mad genius bent on destruction. Mentally ill and totally unsalvageable. Completely deranged with no sense of morality."

Jack blinked at him. "Really?"

Erik shrugged. "Who knows, maybe they're even right. I probably am insane, how do I know."

"Oh. Because, y'know, it seems to me, except for being a little mentally ill, you're pretty normal."

"Thanks," Erik said doubtfully.

"_Anyway_," Will interrupted, "how did you get from Paris to the Caribbean?" 

"Is that where this is?" Erik asked. "I was walking around my labyrinth…and one minute I was there…and then I was here…and I really can't explain it."

Jack and Will looked at each other, and in unison agreed, "Suspension of disbelief."

"Sort of like accepting that the managers actually want Carlotta to sing?" 

This meant absolutely nothing to either Jack or Will, but they didn't get a chance to properly respond anyway.

"ACK!" Jack said suddenly and fell over backwards.

Erik and Will hastened after him. "What happened?" Will asked.

"I tripped."

"Honestly, what is this world coming to when a girl can't sit in a cornfield without being tripped over by a pirate?"

Will squinted into the shadows. "Elizabeth?"

"Hello, dear," she said, standing up.

"I thought you were looking for Jack's crew."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I was. I was walking around the cornfield and then I made the mistake of trying to cut through a corner, and somehow…I haven't quite been able to find my way out again."

"This cornfield has a way o' doin' that to ye," Jack agreed.

"So after a while I got tired of walking and decided to sit here until something happened. Around here, something was certain to soon enough."

Will and Jack looked at each other. "Why didn't we ever think of that?" Will asked. "Instead of, y'know, walking _all night_."

"I don't think I know you," Elizabeth said pleasantly to Erik. "I'm Elizabeth Turner. I'm Will's wife."

Erik had been lurking back in the shadows. He was good at that. "I'm Erik."

"We bumped into him a while back," Jack contributed.

"So are you a pirate too?" Elizabeth asked.

Erik considered. "I think that's one thing I've actually never been accused of being."

"Erik sings," Jack put in. "At the Paris Opera House."

"Actually, beneath the Paris Opera House," Erik clarified. "Since I haunt the Opera House." He looked at Elizabeth warily. "Are you going to react in horror and alarm?"

Elizabeth thought about it. "Do you turn into an undead skeleton in the moonlight?"

They happened to be standing in the moonlight right now. Erik slowly looked down at his very-much-un-skeletal right hand, then looked back up at Elizabeth. "No…"

Elizabeth smiled. "No problem then."

Erik shook his head. "You're oddly understanding people. It's unnerving."

Will shrugged. "I still don't understand about the pipe organ though."

Elizabeth looked at him questioningly. "The pipe organ?"

"He sang and a pipe organ fell out of the sky and flattened an evil cornstalk of death."

Elizabeth stared at Will for a moment, then patted him on the shoulder. "Of course, dear."

"No, really, he, uh…" Will trailed off. He looked at Erik. "If you dropped another one, we could probably run for it before Norrington followed the noise and got here."

Erik frowned. "I'd rather not. I don't _enjoy_ being that angry, you know."

"Sing something else," Jack suggested. "E'en if an organ doesn't fall, maybe somethin' else interesting'll happen."

"Well, I…_could_," Erik said uncertainly.

"Yes, do," Elizabeth put in encouragingly.

Erik had to think a moment to come up with a song that wasn't heavily plot driven. Like one of his notes to the managers, that wouldn't make a lot of sense. And most of the semi-plot-independent songs weren't his. And pretty much all the ones that didn't have the two preceding problems were excessively romantic for present company. Though if he was careful about choosing verses… "Maybe a verse of _Music of the Night_."

"That's fitting," Jack agreed. "So far the night's lasted 15 chapters an' countin'."

Erik smoothed his hair back and cleared his throat. Then, despite the lack of an orchestra to back him up, he sang. And successfully dominated the entire locale.

"Softly, deftly, music shall surround you…

Feel it, hear it, closing in around you.

Open up your mind,

Let your fantasy unwind,

In this darkness which you know you cannot fight,

The darkness of the music of…the…_night_…"

Jack and Will didn't know much about good singing, figured this was probably it, thought it was nice enough, and left it there.

Elizabeth sighed dreamily and melted into a puddle of goo.

The three men stared.

Erik's hands went up to his mouth, eyes wide. "All I did was _sing_ a little…"

_Funny, _Jack mused silently_, I didn't get this reaction singing on the island…and I'm Captain Jack Sparrow._

Will just stared. He was too stunned to do much else. "…Elizabeth?" 

"Well, it's interesting," Jack commented, bending over to take a closer look at the slightly steaming puddle that used to be Elizabeth.

"_Interesting_? It's _horrible_!" Will said wildly, then suddenly turned on Erik. "You melted my wife!"

"It was an accident," Erik said apologetically.

"So _fix it_!" 

"I don't know how."

"WHAT?" 

"This doesn't happen regularly, you know. In the audience, maybe, but never on stage."

"You melted my wife and you don't know how to bring her _back_?"

"It's kind of unfortunate, isn't it?" Erik agreed sympathetically.

Will was livid. "Draw your sword, because I'm going to kill you."

Erik looked him over carefully, then shook his head. "No."

"You think I won't!"

"I think you can't," Erik said bluntly.

"_Die_!" Will growled, entirely forgot about his sword in the heat of his rage, and tensed preparatory to bodily tackling the Phantom.

Jack tapped him on the shoulder. "'scuse me, do ye have any water?" 

"How can you be _thirsty_ at a time like this?" Will flared up at him.

Jack blinked. "Who's thirsty? I just want some water…y'know, never mind, I'll find some myself." He trotted off.

"Where was I—oh yeah. _Die_!" Upon which Will threw a wild punch at Erik's head. Erik ducked easily.

"You _know_ this is a bad idea," Erik said calmly, dodging two more swings as he spoke.

"Hold _still_!" Will ordered.

"Why?"

"So I can hit you!" Will panted, missing again.

"Yes, of course I want to _let_ you do that."

Will gave up on the punching. It wasn't working. "You can't just melt my _wife_!" he shouted, and tackled Erik.

"Oh look, a conveniently placed well!" Jack exclaimed from somewhere out of sight.

Will somehow managed to wrestle Erik to the ground, but then discovered there wasn't much he could do once he had him there. All he really wanted to do was get his hands around Erik's throat, and Erik wasn't letting _that_ happen.

"You know, I appreciate you're kind of upset because your wife melted, so I've been showing levels of patience that really aren't very characteristic of me, but I'm starting to get angry."

That fact not withstanding, no pipe organs fell out of the sky. Which left the two men at something of a draw for the minute or so that remained until Jack came back, a bucket of water in one hand. He glanced at Erik and Will, and liberally splashed them with water.

"What are you _doing_?" Will spluttered, scrambling to his feet and wiping water off his face.

"My hair…" Erik muttered, glaring at several dripping strands hanging in his eyes.

"Water's a time-honored way to break up a fight. B'lieve me, when ye spend lots o' time in Tortuga, ye learn about breakin' up fights," Jack said calmly. "Wasn't why I wanted water though." Then he threw the rest of the water on the melted Elizabeth.

"JACK!" 

Jack jumped. "It's for un-melting," he said defensively.

"How is _water_ going to un-melt anyone?" Will asked wildly.

"It worked in _The Wizard of Oz_, didn't it?"

Will stared at him. "Um, no, Jack. Not really, no."

Jack blinked. "But it _did_, the wicked witch o' the west was melted so they threw water an'—"

"Jack, they threw the water on her to _make_ her melt!"

Jack was silent for a long moment. "Really?"

"What did you _do_, watch the movie on rewind?"

"Maybe." Jack frowned. "Gee, I must've led a confused childhood. Especially since _The Wizard of Oz_ won't exist for another two hundred years."

Confused about _The Wizard of Oz_, they'd all stopped paying attention to Elizabeth, who sat up around then. "What happened?" she asked uncertainly. "And why is everyone wet?"

"Elizabeth!" Will exclaimed, and hugged her.

"I TOLD you!" Jack said, supremely smug. "Water un-melts people."

"You know that that's completely absurd, right?" Erik asked, busily trying to smooth his hair back into place without the benefit of a comb.

"O' course it's absurd. But it's no more absurd then meltin' 'cause o' singing," Jack countered.

"Melting?" Elizabeth said confusedly.

"It's complicated, and extremely confused," Will said briefly, offering a hand to Elizabeth to help her back to her feet. "Come on, we're going to go look for the way out of here."

"Nothing like following the same plan you've been following unsuccessfully for fifteen chapters," Jack approved. "We'll go with you."

"No, you won't," Will said flatly. "Every time I come out of this cornfield with you, we bump into Norrington. Maybe if you stay here, we'll find a way out that doesn't involve Norrington. And even if we do bump into Norrington, maybe we can talk him around…or something."

Jack considered. "So…it's the same plan, but it's pretending to be a new plan?"

Will was silent for a moment. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't think about it. Just go with me on this. All right?"

Jack beamed. "Sure, why not?"

"Thank you."

Erik gave up on his hair. "I'll just…stay here then."

"Fine. And…do me a favor," Will requested, looking pained, "_don't_ sing anything!"

Erik was mildly affronted. He didn't have much time to do anything about it though, as Will turned immediately and marched off with Elizabeth in tow.

"Lovely singing, by the way!" Elizabeth called back before she and Will disappeared around a bend.

Jack tugged at one his braids thoughtfully. "That kid's starting to overstep his bounds. Supporting characters aren't supposed to order around the leads."

"They aren't supposed to carry off the girl either though," Erik muttered.

"Nah, it wouldn't've worked between me an' Elizabeth anyway."

"Not who I meant."

"Oh." Jack waited and Erik didn't elaborate. Jack shrugged. "Anyhow, the kid's oversteppin' his bounds. Might have to knock 'im down a peg or two…prob'ly not though. Sooner or later he'll do something incredibly stupid an' that'll work just as well."

_My apologies to the Will-fans. Though I think Jack-fans rather dominate this area. And other than that…I got nothing. Please review, and I'll do my best to post another chapter soon!_


	16. Masks and Badgers

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So I guess I'm pirating _Pirates_. A joke which I completely just stole from my friend Meaghan. : )

Greetings, my friends! Welcome back to Tavia's madness! But before we get to the madness, last chapter's quote. The quote was "Because, y'know, it seems to me, except for being a little mentally ill, you're pretty normal" taken from Benny and Joon. Congrats to Sunshine, Where's the rum gone, DeppDRACOmaniac, and Dorothy Elavaiygh! There is, of course, another quote in this chapter. Happy hunting!

There have been some interesting events playing out lately. These events require addressing, but don't fit within the current progression of the story, such as it is. Thus, we're going to have a strange interlude inserted before the chapter. Be it duly noted, the strange interlude has no bearing whatsoever on the plot-that-isn't, and the beginning of chapter 16 picks up from the end of chapter 15 with no elapse of time or events. Are we clear? Good. Not that anything is ever clear in this story. Read on.

Strange Interlude

"We have a problem," Jack announced.

"Yes," Will agreed. "Being trapped in a cornfield. We've had that problem for a while now."

Jack shook his head. "No. Not that problem. That's the problem we have when we're in the chapters. This is the strange interlude, doesn't have anythin' to do with anythin' else. So we have a different problem."

"Mr. Sparrow, why don't you try, just once in your life, to be clear and concise and _tell us_ what it is you want us to talk about?" Norrington suggested, patience frayed. An unspecified number of soldiers muttered their agreement.

Jack pointed indignantly at the rating system. "What is _this_?"

"A rating system," Elizabeth said helpfully. "So readers know what to expect from a story, how violent it is, or what the language is like, or—"

"Yeah," Jack interrupted. "But look at our rating. What is this _K_? Where did the K come from? We're a G!"

Most of the crowd of various and sundry characters was stumped. From Will and Elizabeth to Roger the shrubber. Even Rodney.

"They must have changed it," Elizabeth said finally. "The almighty powers-that-be at have obviously changed it."

"But what does it _mean_?" Jack demanded. "If I'm living in a K-rated story, I want to know what it _means_!"

"It means it's for 6+ and the content is suitable for most ages. Intended for general audience 5 years and older. Content should be free of any coarse language, violence, and adult themes."

Every head turned to stare at Lt. Gillete. He blinked back at them. "Didn't anyone else read the section in that explains it all?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm a pirate. I want to know what's going on but I'm not gonna go look an' see what the local officials are actually postin' 'bout their doings. Bad for my image."

"I have more important things to do with my time," Norrington said dryly. This held true for everyone but the unspecified number of soldiers, and there's no way to know whether any of them knew about the ratings, as they're not allowed to speak individually.

Jack frowned, and considered the situation. "So a rating of K means…"

"For five and up," Gillette contributed.

Jack's frown deepened. "I'm in a story for _five year olds_? I'm a pirate captain, I don't _want_ to be in a story for five year olds!"

Someone else put in a comment there. "Kids love _Pirates of the Caribbean_. They stop me on the street because they think I'm you."

That momentarily distracted Jack. "You don't look like me. Well, a little, you've got my mustache and teeth again—"

"Filming the sequel, you know."

"—but for a long time you didn't look anything like me."

He shrugged. "Can't explain it."

"Oh." Jack blinked, a realization suddenly coming to him. "Hey wait a minute, what are _you_ doing here, you're not even in this story."

"Fifteen of my characters doesn't count?"

"Technically, no."

"Oh well." Upon which Johnny Depp left, and the characters tried to get back to the point.

"I don't care if little kids like me, I still don't want to be in a story targeting five year olds," Jack fumed.

"It's not targeting five year olds, it means it's appropriate for five year olds," Gillette countered.

Jack glared at him.

Gillette faltered. "Well, uh, that is, maybe not…"

Elizabeth sighed. "Jack, why does this bother you so much?"

"'cause we're not _Sesame Street_! I got nothin' against _Sesame Street_, a guest appearance on _Sesame Street_ would prob'ly be fun, but the fact is, this story isn't _Sesame Street_ an' I resent a rating system that implies that it _is_!"

"We've always been G-rated anyway," Will pointed out.

"Not the same," Jack said stubbornly. "G means General, everyone. Great movies're rated G. _Gone with the Wind_'s rated G."

"Jack, _Gone with the Wind_'s an epic tale of the American Civil War and the end of the old South as a society, a culture and a way of life," Elizabeth pointed out. "We're a story of a lot of people wandering in a cornfield and bumping into strange things."

"The Marx Bros. are rated G!" Jack said triumphantly.

"Well…we do bear a much closer resemblance to the Marx Bros.," Elizabeth acknowledged.

Meanwhile, Norrington was growing increasingly exasperated with the discussion. "There _is_ a simple solution to this situation. Jack, swear."

"To what?"

"No, say a swear word. I'm a Navy commodore so I'm too respectable to swear, but you're a pirate. Say something."

Jack looked at Norrington steadily. "Commodore Norrington…go rot in Hell."

"I beg your—" Norrington broke off. Jack was grinning at him. "Oh. Yes. Well. In any case…the point is, you just used coarse language. We have to move up a rating."

"To K-plus," Gillette said promptly.

Jack thought about it. "What's the ages for K-plus?"

"Nine and up," Gillette said at once.

"Alright. I can live wi' that."

"I'm relieved," Norrington said sarcastically. "Can we go back to normal now?"

Jack stared at him. "The rest of the story is normal?"

Norrington started to answer. Stopped. Considered. Glowered at Jack. "Who cares, whatever it is, let's go back to it. I still have to catch and hang you!"

Jack grinned. "Keep dreamin', Commodore. Keep dreamin'."

Chapter the Sixteenth

Will and Elizabeth disappeared amongst the cornstalks for quite a while. Which left Jack and Erik without a lot to do. So they sat down and talked. Which was completely and entirely Jack's idea. Erik's not very sociable as a general rule, but Jack's hard to not talk to when he decides that someone is going to talk to him. So they talked.

"You ever think o' bein' a pirate, Erik?" Jack asked idly, lounging back against the cornstalks.

"No," Erik replied succinctly. In contrast to Jack's slouch, his back was perfectly straight.

Jack pushed his hat up and looked at him in surprise. "Never?"

Erik shook his head once. "Never."

"Maybe ye should. Bet ye'd be good at it."

"I'd rather not. Pirates are on ships."

Jack was affronted. "Don't ye like ships?"

"The ships are fine, it's all the people crowded onto them."

Jack was less affronted. "Don't ye like people?"

"I hate people," Erik said calmly. "Generally speaking and with a few exceptions."

"Bet ye'd like my people," Jack drawled.

"Your 'people'?"

"My crew," Jack clarified. "Every one of 'em's crazy. Ye'd fit right in."

"But are they all misanthropic psychopaths?"

"Uh…no."

"I see," Erik said significantly.

"So ye'd add a little variety!" Jack said cheerfully.

"I don't think so, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "Ah well, this just ain't my night for hirin' crew. No luck with Rodney, no luck with you…"

"Who's Rodney?"

"He's a squirrel."

"A _squirrel_?"

"Yeah, a squirrel." Jack poked his coat. "Hey Rodney, come out an' meet Erik."

A small furry head popped out of one of Jack's pockets. "Chatter chatter."

Erik actually smiled. "Nice to meet you too."

Rodney hopped out of Jack's pocket and looked up at Erik curiously. "Chatter chatter chatter?"

Erik stopped smiling and grew very still. "No."

Rodney persisted, scampering a bit closer. "Chatter chatter chatter?"

Erik's hands clenched into fists. "_No_."

"Ah, Rodney," Jack interjected carefully, "maybe—"

Rodney ignored him. "Chatter chatter _chatter_?" His tone was distinctly teasing.

Erik didn't appreciate being teased. He snapped. "_No_, I'm not going to take my mask off and _don't_ ask again, you little rodent!"

Rodney squeaked once and hid in Jack's coat.

Jack held his coat open and peered down at the huddled squirrel. "No, no, it's alright, he didn't mean nothing—"

"Of _course_ I meant something," Erik said savagely, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't _mean_ something!"

Jack snapped his coat closed, hiding away the little furred creature, and looked at Erik in righteous indignation. "Well you've got no business scaring my squirrel!"

"Chatter," came a very small, very muffled objection.

Jack glanced down at his coat. "Yes, I know you're your own squirrel, that ain't the point."

"Chatter," Rodney agreed.

"Right," Jack concurred, then returned to his righteous indignation. "You've got no business scaring any squirrel!"

Erik was quietly, inwardly seething, and it was really a wonder no chandeliers had dropped out of the sky yet. He rose to his feet in a swirl of black cloak. "I will scare anyone I want to scare and I will also scare a great many people I _never_ wanted to scare because ultimately, _I scare everyone_!"

Jack jumped to his feet and glared right back at him. "What is _so_ scary about a silly white mask?" he demanded.

"It's not the mask, you fool, it's what's _under_ the mask!"

"Masked, unmasked, either way, _I'm_ Captain Jack Sparrow and you don't scare me!"

"Fine! You want to know? You want to see? Then look! _Look_, and see why everyone fears the Phantom of the Opera!" In a rage Erik ripped off his mask and hurled it at Jack.

Jack caught the mask as it hit his chest, and looked at Erik thoughtfully. "That's interesting," he said softly.

It was a sunburn gone wrong. But worse. The right half of his face was red and rough-textured, veins showing in places. The right side of his nose lacked any real definition, and a ridge traveled under his eye back up to his temple. And for some reason, pulling off the mask really messed up his hair.1

Erik raged on. "Are you satisfied now? Is this what you _wanted_?"

Jack went on looking, unperturbed, head tipped slightly to one side. "Interesting. Not that bad though."

"Everyone who ever looks at me always—" Erik broke off mid-rant, and stared at Jack, entirely astounded. "WHAT?"

"Not that bad," Jack repeated, then tossed the mask back to Erik, flipping it end over end towards him.

Erik caught the mask with automatic grace. He looked at it, then slowly returned it to its customary place on the right side of his face.

"Well, if we're done yelling, how about we try—again—to find the way outta here? Will might be awhile," Jack said cheerfully, good humor restored and ready to strike off once again.

Erik didn't move. "Wait…you said it's not that bad?"

Jack glanced at him, somewhat surprised that this was apparently so hard to grasp. "Well it's _not_. You should've seen Barbossa at his worst. He wasn't exactly handsome by daylight, an' in the moonlight…" Jack whistled. "Now he was _ugly_. Yer only a little ugly."

Erik stared at him. "You think I'm only a little ugly?" he said faintly.

Jack shrugged. "Ye ain't the worst I've ever seen."

Upon which Erik hugged him.

"Uh…no need to get emotional, mate," Jack said uncertainly.

"That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me!"

Jack stared at him. "You have led a _sad_ life."

"How do you think I became a misanthropic psychopath?"

"That's reasonable," Jack acknowledged.

Erik abruptly pulled back and retreated again into his formal aloofness. "Yes, so…we were going to look for the way out of here?"

"So we were!" Jack said enthusiastically. "An' I have a new plan!"

"You do?" Erik said doubtfully.

"Well…no. Not really. It's the old plan pretending to be a new plan…but it is a _little_ new. Kinda."

Erik continued looking at him doubtfully, but said, "All right, so tell me about it."

Jack beamed at him. "I go that way an' you go _that_ way an' we both go straight an' don't turn or nothing, an' if we don't find the way out in five minutes we turn directly 'round an' come right back, savvy?"

"That sounds all right."

"An' it might even work," Jack said cheerfully. "We _might_ not get lost."

Erik frowned. "How can we get lost walking in straight lines?"

Jack shrugged. "It's a strange cornfield."

They followed the plan anyway. At least, they started to. But after only a minute or two Jack heard a very loud clang from the direction Erik had taken. Jack decided perhaps he ought to investigate, and consequently went back.

"Erik?" Jack called. "You around here somewhere? Eri—"

Jack tripped. Over Erik, of course.

"Why do I keep falling over things tonight?" Jack demanded.

Because the author considers slapstick to be one of the greatest forms of humor.

"Tha's not a good reason," Jack muttered, picking himself up and bending over Erik. "Hey Erik? Wake up, mate."

Erik's eyes opened halfway. "Did you catch the badger?" he asked groggily.

Jack blinked. "What badger?"

"The very large badger that hit me with the frying pan."

"A big badger with a frying pan…" Jack repeated thoughtfully, then abruptly stood up. "Mr. Gibbs! _Mr. Gibbs_!"

A scruffy pirate emerged from between the cornstalks, frying pan in one hand, to look at the pirate captain in surprise. "_Jack_?"

Jack sighed. "Gibbs, how many times have I told you, check who you're hitting _before_ you use the frying pan!"

Gibbs winced. "Who'd I get?"

"Erik."

"Who's Erik?"

"The one you got."

Gibbs blinked. "Wait…"

"Newly acquired friend, ye could say," Jack clarified.

Erik chose that moment to open his eyes again and peer blearily at Gibbs. "Oh. The badger's back."

Gibbs didn't deign to respond to that. He leaned over to apologize instead. "So, uh, no hard feelings about the frying pan, right?"

Leaning towards him, Gibbs came into clearer focus for Erik. The reaction was instantaneous. Erik scrambled backwards, eyes wide. "Ack, it's Buquet! You're dead! I hanged you! It was an accident!"

Jack and Gibbs looked at each other.

"Erik, this is _Mr. Gibbs_. My bosun," Jack said carefully.

"Oh…oh, all right…" Erik said slowly. "You just…looked like someone I used to know…"

"Maybe the frying pan confused yer vision," Jack suggested, offering him a slightly grimy hand up.

Gibbs winced. "I _am_ sorry 'bout that."

Erik rubbed the back of his head. "Well, maybe I won't kill you. Since you're Jack's bosun."

Silence.

Erik, in the middle of smoothing his hair, stopped mid-gesture and looked at them. "I was _joking_. I mean, yes, I have a temper that terrified an entire opera company and when I really get mad I tend to cut a very large swathe of destruction, but that doesn't mean I lack _all_ self-control. I understand hitting the wrong person in the dark. I live in the dark. Accidents happen."

"That's understandin' of ye," Gibbs said cautiously.

Jack slung an arm around Erik's shoulders—Erik only jumped a little—and gave him a gold-toothed grin. "I really shouldn' ask, but speakin' o' accidents, when ye were babblin' a minute ago about this Buquet fellow, well, I got to wond'rin'…how do ye _accidentally_ hang someone?"

Erik shrugged. "The fangirls have been trying to find a good answer to that question for _years_."

Elsewhere in the cornfield, Will and Elizabeth were having other problems.

"Why is there an octopus?" Will asked plaintively.

Elizabeth considered. "Well…it's a very strange cornfield."

Will frowned. "Yes. I know. Jack keeps telling everyone that it's a very strange cornfield."

"It _is_."

The giant octopus waved one tentacle in agreement.

Back with Jack, Erik, and Gibbs, they were still discussing how someone can be accidentally hanged, as they walked along the row of corn. Actually, they weren't really _discussing_. Erik was talking. A lot.

"The most popular theory is that Buquet actually fell into a trap. He went poking around in the wrong cellar, you see, and wound up caught in a trap I'd left set up, rather than my deliberately catching and hanging him. A variation on that suggests he fell into my torture chamber, which is a small, six-sided room with mirrors on every wall and the ability to get really, really hot, so that the inhabitant eventually goes mad and hangs themselves from the handily provided Punjab lasso. The author—that is, not Leroux, the author of this piece—isn't really fond of either of those theories, because she thinks it still makes me rather guilty. Her personal theory on it is that Buquet and I were both up on the catwalks and I was just sort of toying with him, and had the noose around his neck just to catch him or something, not planning to use it, but then Buquet took a swing at me, missed, overbalanced, went off the catwalk, and ultimately hanged himself. However, other theories suggest—"

Jack held up a hand. "Erik."

"Yes?"

"Question answered. Ye can stop now."

"Oh. All right."

"Now. About getting out of here." Jack considered. "Gibbs…don't s'pose you know the way out?"

"Well, um, actually…no. Not really."

Jack shrugged. "Oh well. Let's walk until we come up with a new plan."

So they walked. Until they came to something of an intersection, with a new path branching to the left and to the right, while their path continued straight.

Jack came to an abrupt halt. "I have a new plan."

Erik looked at him suspiciously. "Is it _really_ a new plan?"

Jack grinned, somewhat sheepishly. "Sort of."

"Ah."

"Right, so, Erik, you go that way, Gibbs, you go _that_ way, an' I go this way. We each walk for five minutes, then if we haven't found the way out we turn 'round an' come back, savvy?"

"For a new plan, it sounds very familiar," Erik said dryly.

"No no no no no, it _is_ a new plan!" Jack protested. "This time, there's _three_ of us!"

Erik was doubtful. "Jack, I don't know about this. Do you really think it's going to work?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's not goin' to work if no one believes in it. But where's the harm in tryin', right?"

To make a long story not much shorter, they tried it. Ten minutes later (five minutes out, five minutes to come back), Jack and Erik met up at the intersection again.

"We lost Gibbs," Jack observed.

"It looks that way," Erik agreed.

"Well…we could wait a few minutes."

"Or we could go after him."

"No, we'd never find 'im. It's a strange cornfield, y'know, can't expect to follow someone down a path an' actually _find_ them. No, no, we'll sit down, an' wait," Jack said decisively, and did. "'round here, somethin's sure to happen to us soon."

Erik was dubious, but he sat down as well. So they sat there. And waited for something to happen.

o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o

So there you have it. My guarantee. Next chapter, _something_ will happen.

I feel like responding to reviewers today. So I shall.

Ensign Beedrill: Beedrill! I know you! Hi! Glad you're enjoying the randomness! To specifically answer a few of your comments, I can't explain the corn Mort had without giving things away about the ending of _Secret Window_, but I assure you, the corn is bad, the Doritos are okay. nods Yes. _Finding Neverland_ is out on DVD now, so…go, run, find a video store! I love Phantom, obviously, and the book is pretty good…except that Erik is a deranged psychopath…give me Webber's version any day. And yeah, I have a lot of Fop animosity. But that's okay, I have a lot of Christine animosity too, possibly more in fact. Y'know, it never occurred to me that a map of the cornfield could be used to get out. Yeah…I knew that. Really. Y'know, I kinda like the "are you daft" conversation. Amusing.

Silvereyedelven: Erik's got about… calculates one more chapter, I believe. So enjoy! And there's only one author, but inspiration help for randomness from friends.

Skimbleshanks: Sorry you aren't enjoying Erik…but I'm glad you like the story, even if you don't feel you can respond further…you can always just tell me which parts you found the most amusing, or what line you liked best or whatever.

ChaosLightning: Well, my Erik's insanity is probably good. I'm not sure Leroux's Erik's insanity is good, but that's another story.

Sunshine: I'm impressed by your ability to handle randomness, if you just read the entire story.

Where's the rum gone: Great name, by the way. And I know what you mean about not noticing quotes in Johnny movies…except that I love his voice so I do tend to listen fairly attentively. But I understand the concept of getting a tad distracted.

DeppDRACOmaniac: Do I sense a little Elizabeth hostility here? Just a little?

Olphira Holmes: Y'know, I think melting around Erik's singing is a common complaint…not that anyone's complaining, mind.

Flying Sparrow: You're flattering me, glad you like the story so much!

Dorothy: I hadn't seen _Cry-Baby_ when I wrote the scene you mention, but I've actually seen it since, and the scene with the rat is _hilarious_!

Naoko Tasaki: Yeah…poor Will. But at least nothing's attacking him, right? That's an improvement!

I think that's everyone. Sorry if I missed anyone, all reviews much appreciated!

1 For those familiar with the recent movie, we're basically looking at the Gerard Butler Phantom. If you didn't guess that.


	17. Crossovers and Regulators

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue. Do you think this is really necessary on Chapter 17? After all, if you haven't caught on by NOW that I don't own anything…I worry.

Greetings dear friends and comrades! Back once more to the cornfield—but first, quote identification! "It's not going to work if no one believes in it/him" is from Finding Neverland, something our dear Mr. Barrie says when Michael is trying to fly the kite. Congrats to Where's the rum gone and Dorothy Elavaiygh! And, of course, there is another brilliant quote hidden within this chapter. Happy hunting!

Note on a typo: in the last strange interlude, after Jack swears and the rating needs to go up, Gillette was supposed to say it was moving to K, which is what the rating actually did, if you will notice that. Gillette said it was moving up to K, which is a typo pointed out by Beedrill and which I blame on fanfiction. Hopefully that clarifies a few things!

And a reminder—strange interludes have absolutely no bearing on the plot-that-isn't.

Strange Interlude the Second

If you turned on the TV and switched the channel over to PBS at just the right time, and happened to have the capability to get this story through the television, you would have seen a charming little neighborhood street, with the front steps of an apartment building front and center. Sitting on the steps were a small, furry red monster, a pirate, and a not-quite pirate.

The small, furry red monster spoke first, pleasantly addressing the television audience. "Hello. Elmo is here with our special guest on Sesame Street today. This is our friend Captain Jack Sparrow, here to tell us about the letter P."

The pirate—that is, Jack—waved, and grinned goldly. "'ello."

"Jack, why are we here?" Will—the not-quite pirate—hissed at him.

Jack ignored the question. "I'm a pirate," he explained for the benefit of the television audience.

"And 'pirate' begins with P," Elmo said cheerfully.

"Jack, _why_ are—"

"This is my friend Will," Jack continued, indicating Will. "He's not a pirate."

Will frowned. "Hey wait—"

"He's a blacksmith."

"Elizabeth thinks I'm a pirate."

Jack looked at Will for a moment, and patted him on the shoulder. "Whatever turns 'er on. Yer still a blacksmith, mate." Shifting focus, he got back to addressing the audience. "So 'e's a blacksmith."

"But blacksmith doesn't begin with P," Elmo put in.

"Although if ye shift a lowercase b around a little, it kinda looks like a—"

"Jack, you're going to confuse the kids," Will interrupted, not very politely. He was probably miffed over the issue of whether or not he was a pirate.

Jack stopped talking, and looked at Elmo for confirmation. Elmo nodded. Jack shrugged. "Oh. Sorry."

"Who cares, you already confused _me_. I still don't know why we're here," Will muttered.

"Because in the last strange interlude I said a guest appearance on Sesame Street might be fun. So now we've got one."

Will shook his head. "That's weird, Jack."

"But we should get back to talking about the letter P," Elmo reminded them.

"Right." Jack focused his attention back on Elmo. "How do we do this now?"

Elmo smiled cheerfully. "Today's show is brought to us by the letter P and the number 14. So why don't you give us fourteen words that start with P?"

Jack frowned. "I don't know…fourteen's a lot o' words, mate…but, uh, sure, I'll try." He started counting off on his fingers. "Lessee…pirate. Pillage. Plunder. Pilfer. Plank, as in, walk the. Um…" He stopped, thinking. "Petunia."

"_Petunia_?" Will repeated incredulously.

"What's wrong with petunia?" Jack asked defensively. "Petunia starts with P."

"Yeah, but Jack…petunia? Why _petunia_?"

"It's the next word that starts with P that I thought of."

Will stared at him, one eyebrow noticeably higher than the other. "Bet you're gay."

"HE IS _NOT_!" A crowd of fangirls stormed the street, converged around Jack, and shot dirty looks at Will.

Will refused to be intimidated. "C'mon, _petunia_?"

Every fangirl glared daggers at him, and Will was suddenly buried in an avalanche of hot, buttery popcorn.

"Popcorn!" Jack exclaimed from the middle of the crowd of girls. "That's another P word!"

A small sign worked its way out of the mound of popcorn, bearing the message "Help! The butter! It burns…"

Jack shook his head. "No…butter doesn't start with a P." He glanced around at the fangirls. "Say, maybe ye oughta clear out, loves."

A collective "Awww…" went up.

"I'm very fond o' ye all," Jack said soothingly, "but I got seven more P words to think up."

They sighed, and trooped off. Jack reached into the popcorn and pulled out the very buttery Will Turner.

"Now, can ye _try_ an' stay outta trouble?" Jack requested.

"That wasn't my fault!" Will spluttered. "That was a lot of completely insane—"

"Be quiet. I got more words to think of." Jack considered. "Periwinkle. And purple." He looked sharply at Will. "Got anything to say?"

"No," Will said sourly.

"Good. Next, uh…" Jack frowned, and started muttering through words. "Compass, hat, ocean, sea, puddle—there's another, puddle."

"That's random, Jack," Will observed.

"But it starts with P. So does panda."

"That's even more random than puddle."

"Says you," Jack responded, and went back to muttering words. "Sword, gun, rum, island, pistol—hey, pistol, that's a P word. So that makes…" He counted on his fingers. "That's twelve. Two more…um, Caribbean, ship, boa—pearl! _Black Pearl_! Pearl starts with P!" Jack suddenly clutched his hat, looking horribly guilty. "Why did it take me 'til the thirteenth word to think o' _pearl_? What kind o' pirate captain _am_ I?"

Will stared at him. "You're daft, Jack."

Jack shook his head. "Daft doesn't start with P," he said, still clutching his hat.

"Whatever. Think of a fourteenth word and let's get out of here."

"Can't," Jack said, expression mournful. "Heart's not in it anymore, after takin' so long to think o' pearl."

"Jack, it's one more word!"

"No use. Can't think o' anything."

There was a shift within a patch of shadows in the alleyway behind them. "Phantom," a voice hissed from the darkness.

"Phantom!" Jack exclaimed. "Phantom starts with P! That makes fourteen!"

"Good. Let's go," Will said briskly. No one else was in much of a hurry.

"Very good, Captain Jack Sparrow!" Elmo approved. "Now, let's talk about some of the words you chose."

Jack blinked. "Ye wanna talk about petunias?"

"No, about pillage, plunder and pilfer."

Jack beamed, apparently feeling better about not thinking of pearl sooner. "Hey, those are much better words than petunia! What do ye wanna know?"

"Elmo wants to remind the children that it's not nice to steal from other people."

"What?" Jack yelped.

"And we should never break the law."

"_What_?"

"It's different for Captain Jack Sparrow because he's a pirate—"

"Thank you," Jack said, not very graciously.

"—but we shouldn't steal because it will make other people sad if we take their things."

Jack stared at Elmo for a moment. "I think it's time to go," he said to Will.

"I agree," Will agreed.

So they went.

Chapter the Seventeenth

In the cornfield, Jack and Erik were still waiting for something to happen.

"We could talk, y'know," Jack said after a minute or two.

"We could," Erik acknowledged.

"What do ye want to talk about?" Jack asked eagerly.

"I don't particularly want to talk about anything, _you're_ the one who clearly wants to talk."

"Oh. Right." Jack lapsed into silence a moment, thinking. "Have you ever been to Singapore?"

Erik blinked. "Well…I've been to Persia."

"They're close."

"Not really."

"Oh well. Never mind then."

Erik held off for a minute or two. Then finally he had to give in and ask. "Why have _you_ been to Singapore?"

Jack beamed. "Well ye see, in Singapore—"

And then, as predicted would eventually happen, something happened. Not any particularly dramatic or unusual something. Just a man walking up and saying, "Excuse me, I need to talk to you."

Jack and Erik got up, turning as they did to see a man dressed in what, for the twenty-first century, was a quite ordinary gray business suit. For the outskirts of Port Royal and the 1700s, it was a little more unusual. Jack gave him his best grin anyway.

"Hello, I'm Captain Jack—"

"Not you," the stranger interrupted, and pointed to Erik. "You."

Erik narrowly resisted checking over his shoulder to see if someone else was meant. "Why me?"

Jack felt slighted. "Why not me? _I'm_ Captain Jack—"

"_You're_ where you're supposed to be," the stranger explained.

Jack blinked. "I'm supposed to be in a cornfield?"

Jack was being ignored however, as the stranger addressed Erik. "You, on the other hand, are _completely_ out of place."

Erik took a stab at understanding what this was all about. "I know I'm usually in Paris, but—"

"Why do I care whether you're in Paris or not? The point is, you're here in a _Pirates of the Caribbean_ story, when you belong in _Phantom of the Opera_ stories."

Jack interrupted at that moment. He didn't appreciate being ignored, and he wasn't going to stand for it. "Wait a minute." He squinted at the stranger. "Ye seem to know somethin' about us, but who are _you_? We're not talking 'til you tell us about you."

The stranger sighed. "Oh very well. My name is irrelevant. What matters to you is my position. I am a representative of the Bureau for the Regulation for Characters, Settings and Plot Devices, Their Use, Interaction and Involvement in Television, Movies, Writing and Other, or the BRCSPDTUIITMWO. I'm from the subdivision for Character Interaction in Writing. My personal position is as Regulator of Crossovers."

Jack and Erik both stared at him in silence.

Finally Jack hazarded a guess. "You…regulate crossovers?"

"Precisely," the Regulator agreed. "And do you know what you have here?"

Neither of them knew. "What?" Erik asked.

"An _unregistered_ crossover!"

Jack was beginning to get a grasp on the situation. "No, we don't. It's a _Pirates_ story. Simple."

The Regulator shook his head. "It is not simple. This story has been trying to pass itself off as a pure _Pirates_ story, but in truth it has had crossover elements from the beginning. Those quotes you're always using, for instance."

"What quotes?"

"And those songs you keep singing out of _Muppets Treasure Island_."

"Muppets?"

"Roger the Shrubber in one chapter, the Knights of Ni in another."

"What have they got to do with anything?"

"And don't even get me started on chapters ten, eleven, and thirteen. Fourteen visiting Johnny Depp characters, not to mention two Orlando Bloom characters." The Regulator shook his head. "I should have stepped in then and insisted on proper registration and protocol, but no, technically each one was only a cameo appearance so I let it slide. The same way I've let all of it slide. And now see where it's brought us."

"To the middle of a cornfield?" Jack suggested.

"To him," the Regulator said, indicating Erik, who suddenly found himself back in the conversation. "And so I've finally been forced to step in, now that the situation's become intolerable."

"Hey!" Jack said indignantly. "Erik's not intolerable!"

Erik looked at him, surprised. "Thank you."

Jack backed up a step. "No need to hug me."

Erik held up his hands innocently. "Wasn't going to."

"What is intolerable," the Regulator cut in, "is a multi-chapter appearance by a character from an alternate source than that of the primary source material. That makes this a crossover and subject to certain regulations."

"It's just a guest appearance," Erik protested.

"Yes, exactly, that's what makes it a crossover. Though, granted, not a true crossover, in which characters from two or more sources are of equal importance and both have primary influence on the plot—"

"We don't _have_ a plot," Jack interrupted.

The Regulator thought a moment, and passed judgment. "Loophole. But also irrelevant. In any case, we don't have a true crossover, but we do have an elemental crossover and so there are certain regulations to look into and paperwork to fill out."

"_Paperwork_?" Jack and Erik said in unison, with identical expressions of dismay. Captain Jack Sparrow and the Phantom of the Opera do _not_ fill out paperwork.

The Regulator didn't care. He produced a thick stack of paper out of empty air, pulled a pen from the same place, and considered the first page. "First matter is determining exactly what sources are crossing over. Which Phantom are you?"

"The Opera one," Jack said helpfully.

"Obviously," the Regulator said dismissively towards Jack, then turned back to Erik. "But when the author brought you into this story she must have taken you from somewhere and that is what is considered to be crossing over. So which Phantom of the Opera are you?"

Jack blinked at Erik. "There's more than one of you?"

Erik shifted. "It's sort of complicated…"

"So how about it? Are you Leroux? Chaney? Webber? And if you're Webber, are you Crawford? Butler? Mauer? Any of dozens of others? I suppose you could even be Kay, Rains, Siciliano, or Pratchett." He frowned. "I hope you're not Pratchett."

Jack stared at both of them. "I'm confused…"

Erik was looking thoughtful. "I think I'm from Scarlet Shade."

The Regulator blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I think I'm mostly out of _A Rose Crushed and Broken_."

"Um…that's not on my list of possible official sources…"

"It's a fanfiction with a big influence on the author. If you wanted me to choose one source, I mean. Because the author really didn't sit down and decide to put Michael Crawford's Phantom into the cornfield, she just sort of decided to bring her idea of me in. Which ultimately makes me a sort of melding," Erik mused. "Webber's a big influence, of course, I know every song. I pretty much look like Butler but I have Crawford's voice. I have Butler's mask and Crawford's fedora—though I'm not actually wearing the fedora right now because the author wanted me smoothing my hair a lot, that's something sort of picked up out of Scarlet Shade. I also have Butler's sword, but I don't have Crawford's staff that shoots fire, though I acknowledge its existence. I get my name and back-story from Leroux, with considerable elaboration from Kay, except that I'm almost twenty years younger than Kay's Phantom. But I definitely get my personality from Scarlet Shade: I have a dark streak, but I can also pull off bouncy."

The Regulator nodded. "I see."

Jack was looking faintly floored. "Remind me to thank Johnny Depp for being one person an' simplifyin' my life."

"So the author drew you from multiple sources?" the Regulator clarified.

"I said that."

"So you _yourself_ are a crossover then."

Erik blinked. "Uh…"

"So we have a character who is a crossover and also causing a crossover…" The Regulator tsked. "That's going to mean a lot of paper work." In fact, it proved to be a stack of paper approximately three feet high.

Erik picked up the top sheet of paper, scanned it briefly, then hastily put it back. The Phantom of the Opera doesn't generally look scared, but if he ever did look scared, he would have then. "I want to go back to my opera house…there's no paper work there."

"Well that's an option too," the Regulator acknowledged.

"What is?" Erik asked.

"Leaving."

Erik looked around at the surrounding cornstalks. "_How_?"

The Regulator seemed faintly surprised. "It's easy. I can fix it for you." He reached over to grasp a corncob on a nearby stalk, and yanked it downwards, not unlike a zipper. The cornstalks parted, to reveal a train station. A smoking, rumbling locomotive was pulled up at the platform.

A conductor's voice rang through the night. "Welcome to Platform 42.1502. Train number 1701 leaving for Paris in five minutes."

The Regulator looked extremely smug. "See? No problem."

Erik frowned. "Except that I'm in the Caribbean going to Paris and there's an ocean in between, so taking a _train_ to Paris…"

The smug look disappeared. "Oh. Yes. You have a point." He struggled for a moment, and managed to get the smugness back. "There are other options." He rezipped the corncob and the train disappeared. A snap of his fingers, and a shimmering blue disk appeared, hovering in mid-air.

"What is _that_?" Erik asked.

"I still don't know what the _last_ one was," Jack muttered.

A helpful little signpost popped out of the blue disk and set itself on the edge, reading, "Portal to Paris Opera House, circa 1880."

Erik leaned towards the portal, listened a moment. He blinked in surprise. "I think I hear singing…"

"Well that's great, but do you have a portal to the ocean, mebbe?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Sorry, I can only deal with crossover elements, I can't interfere with the plot."

"There is no plot," Jack countered.

"Irrelevant. Now, Phantom, are you going through?"

Erik considered. "I think so."

Jack made a final attempt. "Are you sure ye don't want to be a pirate? Great career, good pay, happy people, room for advancement…"

"No, thank you."

Jack sighed theatrically. "Well if ye'd _rather_ go back an' live all _alone_ under yer Opera House…"

Erik grinned. It was an unusual expression for him, but it sat well on his face on the rare occasions that he used it. "Sure. I'm from Scarlet Shade, remember? I won't be alone under there for very long." Then, with an elegant bow, he stepped into the portal and was gone. Once he was through, the blue disk shrank down to nothingness, the signpost popping back into it at the last possible moment.

Jack blinked. "You sure you don't have one that would drop me off back on my _Pearl_? This cornfield just goes on forever."

"It does seem rather limitless," the Regulator acknowledged.

"It is big. It's very big. Big doesn't even sum it up. That word big is so small—"

The Regulator held up a hand. "You're making my head hurt."

Jack smiled winningly. "Send me back to the _Pearl_ and I won't be making your head hurt anymore."

"Sorry, no," the Regulator said, briskly and unapologetically. "I don't get involved with non-crossover elements."

"Well fine!" Jack snapped. "I don't need your help! I'm Captain Jack Sparrow! I'll get myself out of here!"

"Good, because I need to be going. I have other stories to investigate, and cannot remain here now that the crossover element has been dispensed with."

"Good-bye," Jack said bluntly, not overwhelming sad to see him go.

The Regulator nodded to Jack, turned, and walked away along the row of corn. Jack watched him until he disappeared from sight, which happened perhaps four steps down the row. Then Jack looked around and observed that he was quite alone.

"Kinda lonely 'round here," he commented to no one. He began moving off down the row, opposite to the direction the Regulator had taken. "Yeah…kinda empty. Just me. All alone…" He smiled suddenly, and started humming a little. "'cause I'm all alone…there's no one here beside me. My problems have all gone, there's no one to deride me. But you gotta have friends—"

"Stop that."

Jack jumped, and blinked at the Regulator. "I thought you left."

"I did. But then I had to come back. You're stealing from _Shrek_ now."

"Pirate."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Pirates steal things."

The Regulator considered. "Hmm. Loophole. Carry on," he directed, and vanished again.

Jack stared at the spot he had been for a moment, then shrugged, and strolled on down the row. "I steal from the rich and give to the needy. He takes a wee percentage, but I'm not greedy. I rescue pretty damsels, fast as an arrow. What a guy, ha ha, Captain Sparrow…"

And at that moment, mid-line, Jack was attacked. Something burst out of the cornstalks and launched itself at him, voicing an eerie, inhuman cry.

Jack shrieked and flung himself to the ground, face down, arms wrapped over his head. When the apocalypse failed to descend, he cautiously raised his head.

A low, gravelly voice rang through the cornfield. "Dead-men-tell-no-tales…"

Jack sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "Mr. Cotton's parrot," he said tightly, "_don't_ do that again."

"Awk, wind in yer sails!"

"Mostly we figure that means yes," Jack muttered, lurching back to his feet and brushing mud off his clothes.

The parrot launched off the cornstalk and landed on Jack's shoulder with a thunk, clouting him in the face with a wing in the process.

"Hey, watch the feathers, mate!" Jack said irritably, flapping a hand at the parrot.

"Awk! Shiver me timbers!"

"Right you are," Jack agreed, and set jauntily off down the row of corn.

He made about three steps before his good mood died. Its death coincided precisely with the moment the noise of swelling music reached his ears. "And I'd almost forgotten about this," he muttered.

A very loud, very squeaky, and very off-key voice rang out over the fields. "I'm only a bowl, in a silly red napkin! I'm only a bowl, looking for a salad! I'm only a bowl, in a silly red napkin, and it's not easy…to be…_me_…!" And in flew Superbowl.

"Hit the deck!" Jack shouted, and threw himself down again. Unfortunately, this left Mr. Cotton's parrot hovering at shoulder-height. The salad bowl wasn't watching where it was going. There was a startled squawk, a loud thud, and the sound of music fading in the distance.

Jack cautiously raised his head. "Mr. Cotton's parrot?" In the silence, the whisper sounded loud. There was no answer. "Come on, mate," Jack said worriedly, "squawk something at me."

Once again, no response. Jack got up to his hands and knees and looked around. Spotting a bundle of feathers nearby, he crawled over. He carefully turned it over. "Mr. Cotton's parrot?" The parrot failed to produce any meaningful conversation. Or anything much of anything, for that matter.

Jack frowned at it sternly. "You're not dead, understand? _Not_ dead. Because if _you're_ dead _I'm_ dead because Mr. Cotton will kill me, and I'm Captain Jack Sparrow so I'm certainly not dead. So you aren't dead either. Got that?" When this too failed to get results, Jack became concerned.

His first instinct was to check for a pulse, except that parrots don't have wrists. So he tried to check breathing and heartbeat instead, without conclusive results. There weren't many other options though. In this particular situation, Singapore just wasn't useful. And mouth-to-mouth with a parrot? Sorry, but no. Best he could think of was—well, I forget the name, we learned it in Health class though. Pounding on the parrot's chest, essentially. And shouting at it.

"_Hello_, Polly! Wakey, wakey!"

The parrot continued to be a failure as a conversationalist. After a little more pounding and a few more repeats of "wakey," Jack had to give it up. You can only spend so long sitting in a cornfield trying to wake up a parrot. At least he was pretty sure it was breathing. Probably.

Jack gave the parrot a long, considering look, then carefully placed it in one of the oversized pockets of his long coat. He patted the lump the parrot made. "You just…sleep it off, mate. Best thing in the world for headaches. B'lieve me, I know."

And then he continued down the row of corn.

o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o

_A Rose Crushed and Broken_ by Scarlet Shade is available on fanfiction, and _highly_ recommended. It's funny, it's sad, it's very sweet, it really did have a huge influence on how I've portrayed Erik. So everybody who liked Erik, go read Scarlet Shade's story!

And a few brief replies to reviewers. Because it's summer vacation and I have time and I feel like addressing a few things.

Dorothy Elavaiygh: I'm not deliberately avoiding references to Johnny's real people characters…it just seems to have happened that way. The ones who had guest appearances were all the characters from the movies I've seen (excepting the post production ones, and the guy from The Libertine. Oh, and Sands, who I haven't seen but I've heard enough about to fake an appearance anyway) and it just so happens that I haven't seen the movies you mention. shrug Don't happen to be on the top of my list of Johnny movies to hunt down.

DeppDRACOmaniac: Yeah…Elizabeth and Will on the _Interceptor_ just before he realizes she has the medallion…getting what you mean there. Oh well, Elizabeth's kinda fun over all, I think…and gotta love Kiera for saying her favorite scene was the island, 'cause she can say she was stranded on an island with Johnny Depp. And Ana is cool! I promise, she'll turn up in a chapter or two. Has anyone heard if she's back for the sequel? IMDB doesn't list her, sadly…

Tazzel Quickbow: Yep. That's what happened. Glad it works. : )

Kute Anime Kitty: Yikes, just a little Raoul hostility there… Know where you're coming from, mate. Though actually, I've had a shift in recent months. Raoul is irrelevant. Christine's the problem. Though when I went to see Phantom in theaters I hissed at Raoul several times. It was fun.

Naoko Tasaki: Definitely hunt down the Phantom movie! It's very good, I own it. I've read Leroux also…it's a great classic, it's really interesting to read the source material, there's a lot in it I like better than some of the later versions…BUT, Leroux's Erik is a psychotic madman bent on death and destruction so…keep that in mind.

ChaosLightning13: I _like_ the Latin phrase. I'm working it in. I don't know when, but it will be here. And if you like homicidal maniacs, you would probably like Leroux's Erik. Have fun, but, uh…stay away from them in real life, okay? Erik's one thing, Scott Peterson is something else.

Where's the rum gone: "That's interesting" is a quote technically, but as I clarified somewhere…some chapter back someplace…Pirates quotes don't count.

Natalie: Glad you enjoy the story, I hope you've kept reading far enough to get to this point and read this!

Silvereyedelven: Rodney will be back, probably next chapter. He's one of my favorites too!

Kirk4ever: I shall carry on. Great name, by the way! And actually, Spock _does_ have a last name, but it's unpronounceable to the human tongue. They mention that in "Journey to Babel" and "This Side of Paradise."

Beedrill: Thanks for pointing out the K/K+ typo, I'll see if I can poke fanfiction into fixing it. I don't understand Erik's hair in the movie…I think I'd be quite okay with the deformity, if he'd just fix his hair. I love Wizard of Oz. Fun movie. And they can't go down the path and end up in the same place and, uh…I don't know. Just…let it be. Erik thinks Gibbs is a badger because my friends and I routinely refer to Gibbs as a big badger, 'cause he kinda looks it. I forget where it got started, I think maybe Kiera called him a badger in her commentary. TV commercial for Willy Wonka! Why haven't I seen this! I'm delighted you're quoting my story though, that's hilarious!

Maseki Hanshou: Buquet and Gibbs are indeed the same actor, thus poor Erik's confusion. Glad you like the story so much! Poor thing, you _are_ Johnny Depprived (that's hilarious by the way). I would love it if you wanted to draw some fanart…please scan and send it to me, lol! Glad you enjoyed so much of the chapter! I couldn't resist a funny unmasking scene—'cause how often do you see one of those? And the quote _was_ from Finding Neverland, so the excuse is good! It must be out on DVD by now, right? Available on Amazon, maybe?

And I think that's everyone. Well, review please!


	18. Scenery and Hair

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. You knew that already though.

Sorry about the long delay in posting, but look—it's a new chapter! Rejoice! Or, y'know, don't. Whichever. Just so you read and review, okay? Oh, and as to business—last chapter's quote was "It is big. It's very big. Big doesn't even sum it up. That word big is so small" from What's Eating Gilbert Grape? Part of it is Gilbert's line, part of it is the girl's line, I'm too lazy to go look up which parts were which, not to mention what her name was. But anyway, that's the one, and congrats to DeppDRACOmaniac and Dorothy Elavaiygh!

And…on to the randomness.

**Chapter the Eighteenth**

Jack was walking quite calmly through the cornfield, the scene unusually quiet. Until two men came crashing through the cornstalks, followed by a herd of battle droids.

"Excuse us," the younger of the two men said, pausing in his flight to turn back and slice off the head of a battle droid with his glowing sword.

"We're just passing through," the older man added, using his own glowing saber to cut a path through the cornstalks in his way.

Jack just stared at the both of them.

The older man raised his saber in salute, then Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker ran on, battle droids in pursuit behind them.

Jack was still staring.

"What was _that_?" he demanded.

That was Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker, as Jack would know if he paid attention to the narration.

"When I say 'what was that' I don't mean who was that, I mean…why was that!"

This, of course, was a question that didn't even make sense.

"I _meant_, why were they _here_?" Jack said testily. "And just answer me straight out, will you?"

Well…I think they're here because they're from _Star Wars_, and _Episode III_ came out recently so _Star Wars_ is popping up everywhere, including in cornfields.

"_Why?"_

Because…_Star Wars_ is a pop culture phenomenon?

"I'm a pop culture phenomenon," Jack countered.

Yes, I suppose—

"You _suppose_?"

Star Wars is somewhat unique in the culture. I've heard box office figures around $160 million.

Jack frowned. "What'd _Pirates_ bring in?"

About $305 million.

"Hah," Jack said smugly.

Except that was _Star Wars_' first weekend box office compared to _Pirates'_ total box office.

"So?"

So Star Wars is almost sure to come out with a higher total.

Jack's frown deepened and he fingered one braid, looking troubled. "Is _Pirates_ the better movie?" he asked hopefully.

Oh unquestionably!

Jack perked up at once. "Good! No worries then." He strolled on down the row of corn, adding in a mutter as he went, "And besides, my sword's _much_ cooler."

I don't know, Jack…lightsabers are pretty cool.

"So they glow a little! Big deal!"

Your sword _is_ very cool, but lightsabers are—

"At least _my_ sword's not _computer generated_!"

Jack, that was low.

"Pirate."

That's your excuse for everything, isn't it?

"Why not? It works. But how about we move this along so I can find someone to talk to besides the narration?"

No problem.

Jack was coming up on a turn in the row. Almost at once around the bend he came across someone else to talk to, in the middle of a four-way intersection between the rows.

"Elizabeth!" Jack exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Elizabeth blinked at him. "Um…we're all lost in here, remember?"

"Right, 'course, knew that. But I thought you and Will went that way and I went _that_ way, and then I went around over there, and meanwhile Erik was going…and Gibbs…but I went back, so…" Jack stopped. He'd been trying to point in the relevant directions as he went along, and now had his arms rather tangled. "Well…anyway, I don't think we should be in the same place," he concluded, untwisting his arms.

"And yet we are," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Right. Strange cornfield, ain't it?" Jack said cheerfully. "So how're you? An' how's Will? Hey…where is Will anyway?" He looked left, right, behind him, and upwards. "Didn't get eaten by another mattress, did he?"

"No, of course not. He had this kind of odd idea where we each went in opposite directions for five minutes, to see if we'd find the way out, and then turn around and come back to meet in the middle again," Elizabeth explained.

Jack looked mildly surprised. "The kid's got better ideas than I thought."

"That was after we met the giant octopus."

Jack nodded. "Of course."

Elizabeth waited a moment. Jack didn't say anything else. "Um…giant octopus, Jack. We met a giant octopus."

"Right. You already said that."

"You don't find that a little…odd?"

Jack thought about it a moment. "Not really, no."

"Oh. Well then…"

"But so long as we're talking about it, which direction is the octopus?"

"He's that way," Elizabeth said, pointing. If Jack had kept going straight on reaching the intersection, he would have eventually hit the octopus. "We walked back to here, and then Will went right and I went left…I got back a minute ago, but obviously there's no sign of Will yet."

"Alright. We'll wait," Jack decided. His legs folded and he sat down on the ground.

Elizabeth looked down at him rather dubiously. "Are you sure we shouldn't go after him?"

"No, no guarantee we'd find him. It's a strange cornfield, can't expect to follow someone down a path and actually _find_ him."

"But…if we can't find Will by walking down that path, how can Will find _us_ by walking back down the same path?"

Jack opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He frowned. "Y'know what? How 'bout you just sit down and don't think 'bout it an' we'll wait for something to happen?"

"I don't want to sit down and wait, I want to find Will!"

"An' we've got better odds o' findin' 'im if we wait here. It ain't gonna work to go after 'im, paths're strange in this place," Jack insisted.

"That doesn't make sense!"

Upon which Jack looked up at her with a mournful expression in his deep brown eyes. "Don't you _trust_ me?"

The woman does not exist who is immune to Jack's puppy-dog eyes—except maybe Anamaria. Elizabeth sighed, resigned. "This is a bad idea," she muttered, but she sat down.

"Good girl," Jack approved.

So they waited. It was somewhat boring.

"Hey Jack, what happened to your friend with the mask…what was his name?" Elizabeth asked after a minute or two.

"Erik. He went back to Paris. Apparently there's no place like home even for misanthropic psychopaths who live alone under opera houses."

Elizabeth turned her head to look at him in surprise. "Wait…you must have found a way out of here then."

Jack looked equally surprised in response. "What, us? Nope, we wandered up an' down an' around, no sign o' the outside world."

"But how could he go back to Paris if you never got out of the cornfield?"

"Well…that's sorta complicated. See, this guy from BRCSPDTUIITMWO showed up and said he was a Regulator of Crossovers and needed to do something about Erik because his guest appearance was making us an unregistered crossover and he thought that was intolerable, which I had to object to 'cause Erik's not intolerable an' I think Erik thinks Erik's intolerable which is kinda sad but anyway the crossover wasn't acceptable so first the Regulator had to figure out where Erik was crossing over from, you know, and that was very confused, it's no wonder the man's a little insane, so finally the Regulator said he could just go back home instead of filling out paperwork and we didn't see how that would work since we were lost in the cornfield, plus there's an ocean between here an' Paris, but then the Regulator made a portal and…" Jack paused. "Just checking, are you following this?"

Elizabeth was staring at him. "No."

"Oh. Alright, where'd I lose you?"

"Right after you said it was sort of complicated."

"Oh. Hmm." Jack thought a moment. "Short version is, some person showed up and created this portal straight to Paris an' Erik went through. So he left an' I kept walking an' here we are."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "All right…got it. I think."

Jack nodded in return. "Good."

Elizabeth frowned. "Wait."

Jack winced. "What's confusing now?"

"Nothing really, but…if he created a portal all the way to _Paris_, couldn't you get him to create a portal just to the shore?"

Jack straightened, indignant. "Captain Jack Sparrow doesn't need help from anyone!"

"He wouldn't do it," Elizabeth concluded.

Jack shrugged. "Absolutely refused."

"And so we're still sitting here in a cornfield."

"Could be worse," Jack said cheerfully. "After all, the company's not bad…and the scenery is _very_ good," he added with a brilliant smile.

Elizabeth looked at him askance. "Jack, I'm _married_! To your friend!"

"I knew that!" Jack protested. "It was just a passing compliment! Honestly, I can't say anything, can I? I didn't _mean_ anything by it!"

"All right," Elizabeth said, voice suspicious. "Fine."

Jack waited a moment, then commented, "But I _could_ mean something. If you wanted me to."

"_Jack_!"

"Well I _could_. I'm very good at that, you know."

"Jack, save it for Anamaria," Elizabeth said witheringly.

"Ana? She'd've slapped me by now," Jack said dismissively. "No, no, this is better."

"No, Jack. It's not."

"Aw, c'mon…" Jack gave her his very best smile, gold teeth glinting. "The scenery can't be _too_ bad from where you're sitting."

Elizabeth slapped him.

Jack leaned back, rubbing his jaw. "Alright. I'm done now."

"Good," Elizabeth said shortly.

"Sorry. But, y'know, you gotta give me a break here, considering the circumstances. I've been trapped in this cornfield for eighteen chapters."

"So?"

"So there isn't a single available woman in the entire place. It's depressing. If I spent eighteen chapters in Tortuga…" Jack whistled. "I'd be up to dozens by now."

"More than I needed to know, Jack."

"Sorry," Jack said again. "Just explaining."

"Well that's no justification!"

"Right, right, no justification at all," Jack said quickly, then grinned. "Though you can't blame me for enjoying the scenery _just_ a little…"

"_That_ does it." Elizabeth shifted position until she was sitting back to back with Jack. "Look at the cornstalks, all right?"

Jack frowned. "Alright, but the scenery's gone considerably downhill."

They sat in silence and looked at the cornstalks for several minutes.

"Y'know something?" Jack said finally.

"What?"

"Cornstalks are _really_ boring to look at. Can we talk or something instead?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I suppose. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. What do people normally talk about in this sort of situation?"

"I don't think people _normally_ sit in cornfields with pirates."

"No, mebbe not."

"You owe me, you know. For being out here."

"Now, I'm not sure 'bout that," Jack mused. "What count are we at?"

Elizabeth blinked. "What?"

"The count. On life-saving. Remember the first couple times? I rescued you from drowning and you made a very lovely shield against the Commodore's bullets."

"Against my will," Elizabeth put in.

"Yeah, but still. Anyway, I said then we were even."

"Actually, I think your exact words were, 'I saved your life, you saved mine. We're square.'"

Jack blinked. "How do ye know this?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "The fangirl writing my lines has memorized large portions of your dialogue."

"I don' wanna know," Jack decided. "So, we were square then, but a lot's happened since then. I'm not sure we're square anymore."

"Let's count it up and see," Elizabeth proposed. "Haven't got anything better to do right now."

"Agreed! So we were both at one then."

"And then you ended up in jail and I ended up kidnapped."

"And _I_ rescued you. That puts me at two."

"As I remember it, _Will_ got me out of that cave."

"Only because he hit _me_ over the head with an oar!"

Elizabeth turned her head to look at Jack in surprise. "He never mentioned this part of the story…"

"He thought I was waitin' too long and wanted to rush in without consideration. I wanted to wait for the opportune moment, but noooo, we have to hit the pirate over the head with an oar an' rush in to rescue the bonnie lass _after_ her throat woulda been cut _anyway_, _if_ Barbossa had even been _going_ to—"

"All right, Jack," Elizabeth interrupted. "Hold back the bitterness."

"Right, well, oar or no oar, I'm the one who got 'im to the caves to begin with. He got me outta jail, I got 'im to the _Black Pearl_, and therefore a position to rescue you."

"So we can count it as a half," Elizabeth decided.

"Three-quarters."

"Two-thirds."

"Agreed. So after that…"

"Barbossa picked you up, and then the _Black Pearl_ engaged the _Interceptor_."

"Intercepted the _Interceptor_, ye might say," Jack interjected.

"You might," Elizabeth acknowledged dryly.

"So then the whole battle raged, an' I rescued ye from that dirty pirate." Jack considered. "Well, I told 'im 'e wasn't bein' very nice, anyway. So that's two and two-thirds for me."

"But then I got us off the island. That's another one for me."

"You burned my _rum_!" The matter obviously still rankled with Jack. "_I_ ought to get a point for not _killing_ you!"

"I got us off. It counts."

"For half."

"Three-quarters."

"Two-thirds."

"Do you want to count both two-thirds as ones and make the math easier?" Elizabeth suggested.

"Agreed. So that's…three for me, two for you. But then I shot Barbossa just as he was gonna shoot you. That's four for me."

"But then Will and I saved you from hanging. That's another point to me."

"Four for me, three for you," Jack said triumphantly. "Sittin' in the cornfield puts us square again."

Elizabeth laughed. "All right, Jack, I'm convinced by your math. You don't owe me. How about Will though?"

"Well, let's see…" Jack drawled. "I ought to get a point for not shootin' 'im in the blacksmith's shop at the onset of our relationship. And then he got me out of the jail in exchange for taking him to the _Pearl_, we were even on that one. Then he left me to Barbossa in the caves—"

"Following the Pirate Code," Elizabeth pointed out. "He that falls behind—"

"I wouldn't've _fallen_ behind except that he hit me o'er the head with an oar!"

"Well, yes, there's that," Elizabeth admitted.

"I think it's a negative point."

"Maybe a half."

Jack groaned. "No more fractions. I'm naught but a 'umble pirate, and math ain't my strong suit."

"All right, count it whole then," Elizabeth said generously.

"Thank you. So that's…" Jack counted on his fingers. "Two-nothing, my favor. Then he went and had to do his grandstanding play with Barbossa about being the son of Bootstrap Bill, despite my efforts to convince Barbossa that he was in fact a distant cousin of my aunt's nephew twice removed. Did me best on that one, but it didn't work so I s'pose it doesn't count."

"Not really."

"Let's see…" Jack concentrated. "Do I get a point for showing ol' Norrie the heading to the Isla de Muerta?"

"No, that little incident happens to be my point for agreeing to marry him!"

Jack shrugged. "Hey, if I gotta agree to marry Norrington to get a point there, you can have it."

Elizabeth managed to restrain all but one giggle. "Thank you."

"Then Barbossa was up and gonna slit his throat and I jumped in on that scene, at great risk to life, limb and ship, so that's another point to me. After that…" Jack's mind ran over the remaining events in the cave, and came up with nothing much. "Well, on to the hanging. Y'know, I think he'd finally gotten the idea of the opportune moment by then…though a moment or two earlier wouldn't've 'urt. Anyway, that's a point to Will. Grand total of…three to one, me in the lead."

"Give Will another point for wandering in the cornfield with you," Elizabeth reminded him.

"Ah yes. So young Mr. Turner owes me, three to two…no, make that four to two, I rescued 'im from the mattress!" Jack said triumphantly.

"Which never would have eaten him to begin with if he hadn't been out here trying to help you."

"True enough," Jack had to admit. "Well, we'll drop that one. He still owes me though."

"I'm sure he'll be fascinated to hear it. Speaking of which, he _still_ isn't back you know."

"Can't see 'im in this direction," Jack said, peering through the gloom. "Any sign of 'im in your direction?"

"No…there's so much corn it's hard to tell though…" And then Elizabeth tried to stand up. It was a bad idea.

"Ow!" Jack clutched at his hair and Elizabeth sat abruptly back down again.

"I think we may have a problem," Elizabeth said.

Somehow or other, one way or another, they had managed to get a mite tangled. Sitting back-to-back all that while, Elizabeth's curls and Jack's braids had gotten a bit mixed up. Another attempt by Elizabeth to stand up met with equal failure.

"Yes, I think we definitely have a problem," Elizabeth concluded.

"Look on it as reaching a new plateau in our friendship," Jack suggested. "I'm trying to get you out of my hair."

A long pause.

"_Funny_, Jack."

"_I_ thought so."

Elizabeth decided to ignore that. "What if we both stood up together? Then once we're standing we can try to disentangle ourselves."

So they tried it. But someone lost their balance. Not to name names, but, well, swishing walks don't always betoken good balance. Anyway, balance was lost, and they ended up in something of a heap."

"Well, _this_ is interesting."

"Jack, you _aren't_ helping."

And right about then, someone coughed. And it wasn't Jack or Elizabeth.

"Oh dear," Elizabeth said unhappily.

Jack happened to be in the wrong position to see whoever it was, as he was facing in the opposite direction, but he could guess. "Don't tell me. I would _always_ prefer to see Will over Norrington. But the _one_ time I'd rather see Norrington, it's Will. Right?"

"It's not what it looks like, dear," Elizabeth said, which pretty well answered Jack's question.

"All right, so explain what it _is_," Will said tersely.

"Like she said, it's not what it looks like," Jack chimed in. "After all, would _I_ flirt with my friend's wife?" A pause. "Well, yeah, I would. But would I even kiss—actually, I might. Mebbe. I'd have to think 'bout that one. But, y'know, even so I—"

"Jack, this isn't helpful," Elizabeth snapped.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't be lying in a heap with 'er in a cornfield, I can tell you _that_," Jack said firmly.

"That's it. _I'm_ standing up," Elizabeth said, and did, a movement accompanied by a lot of "ow, ouch, watch the hair!" from Jack.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Will requested, a little desperately.

"She's in my hair," Jack explained.

"How did she get in your hair?"

Elizabeth tried to answer that. "Well, we were sitting, and we were counting up who had saved whose life more times, and then I tried to stand up, and, well…" She sighed. "I have no idea how I got in his hair."

"It's just that it's a little tangled. Er…a lot tangled," Jack put in. "An' when it's a lot tangled, anything can get stuck in it. Including girls. B'lieve me, I know."

Upon which Will stared at Jack, and Elizabeth would have too except that she was still stuck in his hair. "You have _experience _with this?" Will said incredulously.

"I, uh, well, that is, um…" Jack smiled his nicest, puppy-dog-est smile. "No comment?"

"Never mind, I don't want an answer anyway," Will decided. "I just want _my wife_ out of your hair."

"Right, right, good plan, yes, I agree," Jack said, nodding profusely. "So…how do you suggest we do that?"

No one really verbalized a suggestion, but as it eventually worked out, Jack and Elizabeth held still and Will untangled them. Jack swore that Will was yanking his hair more than was necessary, an accusation Will fiercely denied. It may have come to blows except that Elizabeth pointed out that they were still lost in the cornfield, with enemies in every direction, so it wouldn't exactly be wise to make enemies of their few allies.

This exchange brought them neatly back to the topic that had occupied much of their conversation for the evening. How they were going to get out. And, more specifically, which direction they were going to walk.

"I came from that way," Jack volunteered, pointing down the relevant path. "Definitely goes straight into the heart o' the cornfield. Unless maybe it makes a side trip near the kidney of the cornfield." Which was a joke so bad that Will and Elizabeth flatly refused to acknowledge that he'd made it.

"I walked that direction before, and it was a straight row so I could see that it kept going into the distance," Elizabeth said, indicating the path she had taken. "What about yours, Will?"

Will shook his head. "We don't want to go that way."

"Why?" Jack asked promptly.

"You don't want to know."

"Of course I want to know," Jack said indignantly. "Ye don't think I'd ask if I didn't want to know, do ye?"

Will sighed. "Well…if you insist…there's a very large Venus fly trap that way."

Elizabeth blinked. "A _what_?"

"A very large Venus fly trap. It ate me."

"That's _horrible_!" Elizabeth said fervently.

"Oh…it wasn't so bad…I just used my sword to cut my way out. Slowed me down though."

"I wonder…" Jack said thoughtfully.

Will frowned. "I'm sure I'll regret asking, but what do you wonder, Jack?"

"What it is about you that makes everything in this cornfield want to eat you."

"Everything does not want to eat me!"

"There was the mattress…and the Venus fly trap…and…" Jack paused, out of examples. "Well…do you think Norrington would eat you, given the chance?"

"Jack, don't be ridiculous!"

"But it's a comedy. We're _supposed_ to be ridiculous."

"We're also supposed to be choosing a direction to go," Elizabeth cut in.

"Oh. Right." Jack considered. "We could go fight the Venus fly trap. Bet I could take it."

Will shook his head. "Wouldn't matter if you could. It got me coming back. There's an impassible ravine beyond it."

"How do you know it's actually impassible?" Elizabeth asked. "Maybe between the three of us—"

"There was a sign," Will explained. "Big cardboard sign saying 'Impassible Ravine.'"

"Can't argue with a sign," Jack agreed. He considered a little more. "Well, we can't go that way or that way or that way, so we'll have to go _that_ way." This pronouncement was accompanied by a great deal of somewhat haphazard pointing, but the conclusion Will and Elizabeth both drew was that he meant they should go the fourth, as yet unmentioned, direction. This was also the direction Will and Elizabeth had originally come from.

Elizabeth pointed out the flaw in going that particular way. "You forgot the octopus."

Jack shook his head. "No, no, I'm saving that for my big underwater climax."

Will and Elizabeth looked at him, then looked at each other. "Do you understand?" Elizabeth asked Will.

"No."

"All right. Just checking."

By now, Jack was already heading down the chosen path. "Are you coming or not?" he called back.

Will shrugged. "Yeah. Guess we're coming."

So they went. After all, there was an octopus waiting.

o/o/o/o/o/o

Responses to reviewers:

DeppDRACOmaniac: The parrot scene was definitely taken from Monty Python. I actually wrote that scene months ago, and have been waiting to work it in ever since…but there's actually a lot of scenes floating around like that. Anyway, well done recognizing that, and the quote too!

Tazzel Quickbow: Well, Will and Elizabeth were not eaten by the octopus (although the possibility still exists that they could be!) and while I really don't have anything much _against_ Will fangirls, I don't understand them.

Dorothy: It's not that I have a problem with Johnny's realistic characters. The fact that they're real has absolutely nothing to do with my seeing (or not seeing) the movie. It's just chance that his real ones are the ones I haven't seen. And I'm quite obsessed with Johnny movies, I've seen 14 to date. Just not the ones you're mentioning. And well done on the quote, by the way!

Feline Freak: Of course I'm crazy. And yeah, FF is a pain about deleting symbols.

ChaosLightning13: I'm sorry Erik left but…he did. Because it _is_ a Pirates story, and I couldn't have him taking over. CPR could be the word, but I seem to recall there was another. Dunno. And good call on staying clear of the dangerous boyfriends.

LarndeSolen: Actually, the parrot's not quite dead yet.

PlanetKiller: You dressed as a shrubbery? Wow, I'd love to know how you managed that costume… Glad you're enjoying, wonder when you'll get to this chapter…

Naoko Tasaki: Ah yes, I am spreading knowledge and enlightenment throughout the world…kinda. But hey, the chandelier's important in Phantom, good thing to know.

Captain Inuyasha: Glad you enjoyed the Regulator, he came in rather randomly…okay, rather like everything else…

The oro-ing elf: That is kinda freaky, about the badger. I'll pass the word on to Rodney.

Ensign Beedrill: Just watched Star Wars did you? Read the book you must! Impossibly better than movie it is! Okay, enough of that. Yeah, Erik has a very confused origin, that's my fault though because I look into all these different places and pull out the bits I like, instead of just deciding that he's the Webber Phantom or whatever. You're very right about the numbers, they're all symbolic. 42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything, according to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, 1701 is the Enterprise's serial number, and 1502 is from Don Juan de Marco…never mind what it's about, it's just there. I think some of the Phantom's hair in the movie is a wig, I mean, it kinda has to be…but that's the Butler Phantom, my version of Erik has hair intact. See why it gets so complicated?

Spacemen Spiff: Correct on the quote, maybe you'll know another. Who knows?

Raquedan: Go see Phantom, it's very fun. Although not every reference is exactly movie based…as you can probably guess after Erik tried to explain his origins. Wasn't technically every Johnny character (and I know I'm being very nit-picky to point that out, forgive me) but it was a lot. More quotes and randomness coming up!

Is that all? I think that's all. Onward! Hope you've enjoyed, the next chapter should be up soon, God willing and the creek don't rise. Random. I know.


	19. Pockets and an Octopus

Disclaimer: It's still not mine.

ducks head apologetically I'm sorry! I know it's been a very long time…I kinda started college since my last post, and it's been a little distracting (not that I'm out drinking, because I'm not, but there's lots of other things in college too, despite what people may think—ahem, random rant, sorry). Anyway…look! Two chapters! I beg forgiveness for the long disappearance, and invite you to read on.

But first: congrats to Sunshine304, Wheres-the-rum-gone-2004, DeppDRACOmaniac, Dorothy elavaiygh for knowing the quote! Which was: "You forgot the octopus." "No, no, I'm saving that for my big underwater climax." From _Ed Wood_. Fun movie. There's another quote in this chapter, happy hunting!

**Chapter the Nineteenth**

Jack, Will and Elizabeth didn't have to walk very far to find the octopus.

Jack looked at it thoughtfully. "That is a Giant Octopus."

"I _told_ you," Elizabeth said flatly.

"No, no, you told me you met a giant octopus. You didn't tell me it was a Giant Octopus."

"Whatever. How are we going to get past it?"

"We could be polite," Jack suggested.

"Polite?" Will repeated.

"Sure." Upon which Jack doffed his hat, and bowed elegantly. "Good evening. Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? It just so happens we're in a bit of a hurry, so if you wouldn't mind moving aside, Mr. Octopus, we'll just—gah!" Jack leapt aside rather suddenly, to avoid the very large tentacle that reached out and slapped down in the precise spot he'd been standing a moment before.

"Um…Captain Octopus?" Jack hazarded, then jumped farther back as the tentacle smacked out again. He seemed to be far enough back now, because the octopus ignored them all.

"_Captain Octopus_?" Will repeated.

Jack shrugged. "Well, I tend to want to smack people when they call me Mr. Sparrow, so I figured…"

"Okay, Jack, fine. But it didn't work so what are we going to _do_?" Will asked.

"I got it, I'm on it, you take that tentacle, and I'll take that tentacle, and, uh…" Jack frowned. "And we need six more people."

"_Ahem."_

Jack looked at Elizabeth. "Yes?"

"_Six_ more people?"

"Well yeah, 'cause there's eight tentacles and two of us an'—"

"Oh, so I don't count, do I?" she demanded. "It's because I'm a _girl_ isn't it? We can't ask a _girl_ to do anything, nooooo, can't think that maybe _she_ might be able to help, of course not—"

"Five more people, five more people!" Jack yelped hastily. "We only need five more!"

"Thank you," Elizabeth said coldly.

"But we're still short five people, so it's still not much of a plan," Will pointed out.

"Yeah. You know what would be nice right now?" Jack said, looking at the octopus. "A pipe organ. Falling out of the sky. Right now. Blam."

"Hey, that's right, what happened to Erik?" Will asked, looking around as though he might have missed him. "I thought he was with you."

"He was," Jack said, still looking meditatively at the octopus. "Then he went back to Paris."

Will frowned. "Wait, if he went back to Paris you must have found a way out of here, so—"

Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't ask. Just…don't ask. It's very confused."

"All right…so…any more ideas?" Will asked.

"Got something," Jack said abruptly. "If the Phantom of the Opera can drop something out of the sky, why can't Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Um…Jack…" Will said slowly.

Jack was fixing the octopus with a look of deep concentration. "Very large object. Falling out of the sky. Blam." A pause. "Any time now." A longer pause. "Aaaaany time now."

"Jack, I don't think this is a good idea," Will said.

"You didn't ask for a _good_ idea, you just asked for an idea."

"Yeah, but, Jack—"

"Gonna try it again." Jack screwed up his eyes and raised his arms to the heavens. "All right. Channeling the Phantom of the Opera. Hear that, Erik? I'm channeling you, work with me here. Channeling. Finding the Phantom on the spiritual plane."

"Jack, I don't think—" Will began.

"Don't distract me, I think I'm getting through."

"Jack, I _really_ don't think—"

Jack opened his eyes. "I have a sudden urge to sing an aria."

Will looked pained. "Please don't."

"Right. To the point. Channeling the Phantom, and phantoms drop things. Right now. Blam." Jack brought his hands down in one dramatic gesture. Nothing happened.

After a few seconds Jack sagged and turned away. As soon as his back was turned a very loud noise more or less resembling "blam" sounded through the cornfield. Jack turned back around rather quickly. A very large anchor had landed slightly to the left of the very large octopus.

"I missed," Jack said, sounding woeful. "How did I miss a Giant Octopus?"

Will had bigger questions. "How did you do it at all?"

"I told you, I channeled Erik." Jack frowned thoughtfully. "Thought Erik had better aim than that." He shrugged. "No matter, I'll just drop another one." He raised his arms, preparatory to doing so.

"No, wait a minute, Jack," Elizabeth interrupted. "Take a look."

The octopus had shied away to the right, away from the anchor and out of the way of the path. Realizing that the humans on the path were looking at it, the octopus waved several tentacles at them, urging them to go on.

"I think you scared it," Elizabeth concluded.

"Of course. That was the plan all along, really," Jack said at once, and struck confidently along the path past the octopus. Will and Elizabeth followed, slightly more dubiously. The octopus let them pass.

The Giant Octopus watched them until they had disappeared down the row. It was reflecting that it had been much better off when it was fighting mad scientists who strongly resembled Dracula.

The human characters, on the other hand, were reflecting that that had gone rather well, really, all things considered. There were still problems though, kind of.

"We still don't know the way out, do we?" Elizabeth commented.

"We'll find it," Jack said firmly.

"How?"

"I don't know. We just will."

"That's a plan," Elizabeth agreed.

"Here's an idea," Jack said cheerfully. "We've spent pages and pages talking about finding the way out, but never found it. If we talk about other things, maybe we'll actually _find_ the way out!"

"Jack, that makes absolutely no logical sense," Elizabeth said flatly.

"So?"

"So…why on earth do you think it would work?"

"Why not?"

Elizabeth gave up. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. What do _you_ want to talk about?"

This could have gone on for a long time, and advanced the plot, the conversation and the humor not at all. Fortunately, Will actually had something to talk about.

"Hey Jack, what ever happened to the tree?" Will asked. "Did you finally give it away?"

"Most definitely not. _He_ is around…here…somewhere…" Jack frowned, patting at his coat. "Not sure which pocket just now…"

"Jack, how do you put a bonsai tree in a coat pocket, and then _lose_ it?" Elizabeth wanted to know.

"He ain't lost. Just a little misplaced. I'll find 'im," Jack promised. "E'en if I have to empty my coat to do it."

"That's really not necessary, Jack," Will said quickly, calculating how many pockets Jack must have in his long leather coat. They'd all stopped walking by now, and if Jack really went hunting through his coat there was no reason to think they'd start walking again any time soon.

"No, can't just leave a bonsai tree in my coat indef'nitely," Jack said firmly, reaching into his pockets and pulling items out. "Lessee…extra powder…map…random beads…rum flask—bloody empty." He tossed it disgustedly on the pile of items beginning to form at his feet. "Ball o' twine…yo-yo…compass…"

"If you had a compass, why have we spent most of the night walking in circles?" Will demanded.

Jack shrugged, reaching into a new pocket. "Fergot about it. Hmm…apple, slightly rotten. Leg of lamb. Squirrel."

"_Squirrel_?" Elizabeth repeated.

"Say 'ello to Elizabeth, Rodney."

"Chatter," Rodney said sleepily.

"Ye wanna come out now?"

"Chatter chatter," Rodney disagreed. "Chatter."

"Yeah, guess that _would_ be a good dream for a squirrel. Can't say I'm too partial to almonds myself though." Jack let Rodney slide back into his pocket and moved on. "Ah. Handkerchiefs." He pulled out two blue handkerchiefs, which were followed by a plaid one, a red one, two brown ones, seven white ones and a purple one. And the pocket was by no means empty. "_Lots_ of handkerchiefs," Jack amended, continuing to pull out handkerchief after handkerchief after handkerchief.

"Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…" Elizabeth counted.

"There's more comin'," Jack warned her, pulling out still more. He was knee-deep in them by the time he got to the end.

"Well at least they have to all be empty by now, so you can find the bonsai tree and we can keep moving," Will said.

"Who said they're all empty?"

A pause. "They're not?"

"That was only four pockets."

"How many pockets do you _have_?" Will asked, half afraid of the answer.

"And how much do you have _in_ them?" Elizabeth asked, completely afraid of the response.

"That remains to be seen. Huh. A fedora. That's interesting." Jack kicked handkerchiefs out of the way and threw the hat on the pile. He moved on to inspect a small pocket just above the last one. "Dunno if there's anything in…here. Oh. Hmm." Jack held up the latest item to the moonlight and looked at it thoughtfully.

Will stared at him. "Jack, those are stockings."

"Yes," Jack agreed.

"Black stockings."

"Right."

"Black lace stockings."

"Clearly."

"And they came out of…_your_ pocket."

"Obviously."

Will was looking distinctly pained. "Jack, _please_ tell me that it's not what I'm thinking right now."

Jack looked at him oddly. "I don' know what _yer_ thinking, but _I'm_ thinking I should give Giselle her stockings back next time I'm in Tortuga."

Will exhaled. "_Oh_."

Jack shook his head. "Yer a strange kid, y'know that?"

"Says the man who just pulled 72 handkerchiefs out of one pocket."

"Not to mention…" Jack squinted at the large leather book he'd just pulled out. "…_The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_. Dunno where _that_ came from…oh well." Onto the pile it went. For those who are unsure, _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ tends to be fairly bulky. Not so for the next item to come out of Jack's pocket.

"Jack, is that make-up?" Elizabeth asked, half horrified and half delighted.

"_Eyeliner_," Jack said defensively. "I do have to reapply it every month or so."

Elizabeth blinked. "Jack, how often do you wash your face?"

Jack sidestepped that one. "That ain't the point, it's water proof anyway," he said, fishing about in another pocket with one hand. "I dive off cliffs an' still come up unsmudged."

"That would be nice…" Elizabeth said thoughtfully.

Jack finally found what he was reaching for in his latest pocket, and triumphantly pulled out a pair of socks. They were pink. Bright pink. With a repeating pattern of little black skulls and crossed swords. "I've been looking for these," he commented.

"So whose are _those_?" Will asked with a grin.

Jack looked at him. "They're mine."

Will was taken aback. "But they're pink."

Jack stuck out one boot. "So who sees my socks anyway? Besides, they're nice socks. They're fuzzy."

"Fuzzy," Will repeated.

"In a nice sorta way," Jack agreed, and handed Will a sock. "See? Fuzzy."

"You know this is weird, Jack, right? This is really…" Will trailed off, rubbing the sock between his thumb and forefinger. "They _are_ fuzzy."

Jack beamed. "They're nice socks."

"Yes…" Will agreed softly, continuing to rub the sock.

Jack looked at him, suddenly wary. "Yeah, so…give me my sock back now."

Will didn't. "So where'd you get these anyway?"

"Will, give me my sock back."

"Because these really _are_ nice, fuzzy—"

Jack snatched his sock away. "Mine."

Will blinked, and shook himself. "Fine. I don't want your socks anyway."

"Right," Jack agreed, without meaning agreement at all. He carefully folded up the socks and put them in the pocket with Rodney. "Watch these for me, will ye?"

"Chatter," came the sleepy reply.

"Onto the next pocket," Jack said briskly.

"Jack, maybe you should do this later and we'll keep walking for now." Why Will thought this would have any effect is a mystery.

Jack ignored him completely. "Kerosene lamp—unlit. Gloves. Very Large Feather. Halibut. White wig."

"Jack, please tell me that didn't use to belong to a Navy officer," Elizabeth requested.

"Okay, it didn't use to belong to a Navy officer," Jack told her. The wig joined the pile.

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment. "You're lying, aren't you?"

"Of course." He grinned at her, then plunged into another pocket. "Gold coins. Pogo stick."

"Jack, why are you even doing this right now, of all times?" Will asked.

"Because you asked me to," Jack said matter-of-factly, pulling purple sunglasses out of still another pocket.

"I did _not_!" Will denied.

"Sure you did. You asked me about Hector, and this is the only way to find Hector." Jack inspected what appeared to be a very old sandwich. "I wonder what this was originally. Oh well." Onto the pile it went.

Will resolutely turned his attention away from Jack and towards Elizabeth. "It seems to me that if Jack has his compass we should be able to find our way out of here fairly easily."

"Trumpet. Teakettle. Small statue of a polar bear."

"It does _seem_ reasonable," Elizabeth said cautiously.

"Crystal ball. Mallet."

"And if we bump into Norrington," Will continued, "we'll hit him over the head and run."

"Umbrella. Hat rack. Barrel of fish. Chandelier—economy size. Rudder."

"And after that we'll—" Will stopped mid-sentence. Looked at Jack. "A _rudder_?"

"And a lot of sails," Jack said through a voluminous armful of rough cloth.

Upon which Elizabeth cracked up for no reason that Will could see.

Will looked at the laughing Elizabeth for a moment, shook his head, and looked back at Jack, who was pulling out length after length of rope riggings. "Do you have an entire ship in there?" Will asked incredulously.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack said scornfully. The riggings went on the pile and he reached deep into another pocket, arm disappearing to the elbow. "Why would I carry a _ship_ around in my _coat_?" Jack frowned, fishing about for whatever else was in this pocket. "I have a ship, I don't need another one," he said firmly, pulling a crow's nest out.

"Are you sure the bonsai tree's even in there?" Elizabeth asked doubtfully.

"'course I'm sure," Jack said, hand disappearing into still another pocket.

Will frowned. "Maybe, but at the rate you're going in finding it—"

"Wait, I feel leaves!" Jack said triumphantly, and pulled out a tree.

It was a very large tree. Taller than Jack. All three of them stared at it.

"That doesn't look like a bonsai tree," Elizabeth observed.

"Maybe it grew," Will said dubiously.

Jack studied the tree closely, nose to the leaves. He carefully inspected the outside, then stuck his head into the branches and inspected the inside too. After a good deal of rustling, Jack emerged again. "This is not Hector," he announced. "An' what's more, I _don't know_ this tree."

"That's impossible, it was in _your_ coat," Elizabeth pointed out.

"I know that," Jack agreed. "But the fact remains, this tree is a stranger."

"Then how did it get in your coat?"

"Maybe Barbossa put it in here."

"_Barbossa?"_

"Don't forget, my coat was left unattended on the _Pearl_ while we were on the island." Jack looked at the tree suspiciously. "An' if this is _Barbossa's_ tree, it could be an _evil_ tree. We better watch ourselves 'round this one."

Will shook his head confusedly. "Jack, are you sure you haven't seen this tree before?"

"I haven't," Jack said firmly. "Would I associate with a tree named Egbert?"

To which Will could think of absolutely nothing to say, so Jack responded to his own question. "Actually, I might. I don' like to discriminate based on unfortunate names, y'know."

"That's nice of you," Will said faintly.

"I know," Jack agreed, and patted one of Egbert's branches. "No hard feelings about the name, mate." And then he was struck by a brilliant idea. "Speakin' o' unfortunate names…shoulda thought o' this before." Then he poked the pocket with the squirrel in it. "Hey Rodney, can I 'ave a word?"

"_Chatter_!" Even Will and Elizabeth could tell that was a negative.

"Well I'm sorry I keep wakin' ye up but I just—"

"Chatter chatter!"

"Yes, cashews _are_ nice, but—"

"Chatter _chatter_ chatter!"

"_Rodney_! Ye can't use that kind o' language 'round a governor's daughter! Apologize to Elizabeth!"

Rodney didn't say anything. But a pink sock was flung out of the pocket and hit Jack in the face.

Jack caught his sock with one hand and plunged the other hand into his pocket and pulled Rodney out. "I'm sorry I interrupted yer dream, but there's no need to get rude."

"Chatter," Rodney grumbled.

"Yeah, well, look at anger management or somethin'. Now just tell me if ye remember which pocket I put Hector in, an' ye can go back to sleep."

Rodney thought a moment. "Chatter chatter."

"Thank you." Rodney went back into one pocket, and with a minimum of reaching about, Hector came out of another pocket. Jack beamed. "Told ye I'd find 'im eventually."

"Why didn't you ask the squirrel to begin with?" Will asked tiredly.

Jack grinned. "Well _that_ wouldn't o' been much fun."

Will groaned. Elizabeth took a more practical look at the situation. "I just have one question…how did all of _that_…come out of your coat?"

Jack looked at the monstrous pile of many and varied items, from pogo sticks to halibuts, then looked down at his coat. After a long moment, he looked back at Elizabeth. "Well…a couple things. One, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. That answers every question. Two…" Jack shrugged. "…suspension o' disbelief."

"Of course," Will agreed, not really agreeing but wanting to get on with things. "So anyway, now that you found the bonsai tree let's get moving again."

Jack shook his head vigorously. "Not yet. I have to get everything back into my coat now."

Will looked at the large pile of items. "Do you have to?"

Jack looked at him aghast. "I can't just leave my property in the middle of a cornfield!"

Will sighed. "Fine, but try to make it fast, okay?"

"Right," Jack agreed, then began carefully and deliberately putting items back into his pockets, one item at a time. This was going to take a while.

After a moment of watching, Will and Elizabeth retreated a few feet and sat down to wait. Jack went on loading items back into his coat, and the author decided it would be a good time to borrow from the Marx Bros.

Jack paused in his pocket-filling work and glanced at you. Yeah, you the one reading this. "You know, _they're_ stuck here," he said with a nod to Will and Elizabeth, "but there's no reason _you_ have to stay. Go on, get some popcorn or something, come back later."

Jack put the pogo stick and the mallet back in his pocket, then looked up again. "You're still reading? No, really, I mean it. Nothing interesting happening here, go find something better to do. You must have something better to do than watch a pirate put things in his pockets. Come back at the beginning of the next chapter, I'll be done by then. Bye now."

o/o/o/o/o/o/o

Rumor has it that FF has forbidden responding to reviews. : ( I love you all anyway! Thank you for all the wonderful feedback!


	20. Phantoms and Pirates

Disclaimer: _Pirates_ doesn't belong to me. Unless I commandeer it.

I got nothing to say, I said it all last chapter… Oh yeah, there's another quote in this one, I'll reveal both next post!

Chapter the Twentieth

"Are you_ done_ yet, Jack?" Will asked tiredly, walking up to the pirate captain with Elizabeth a step behind.

"Yeah. I think so." Jack carefully put Hector into the pocket just below Rodney. "I should be, it's the beginning of the next chapter."

"If you're done, what about those?" Elizabeth asked, pointing to the two items still lying at Jack's feet.

"Oh…those." Jack looked thoughtfully down at the black fedora and economy-sized chandelier. "Those aren't mine."

Elizabeth blinked. "Whose are they?"

"I think they're Erik's."

"What were they doing in _your_ coat then?"

Jack considered. "They weren't _doing_ anything. Fedoras and chandeliers don't really do things."

"No, Jack," Elizabeth said patiently, "I meant how did they get there?"

Jack grinned at her. "Yeah, I knew you meant that. Not sure how they got to my coat though. Whim of the author, I s'pose."

"Always a good explanation for that which lacks any explanation," Will agreed. "So why don't you just put those away and we can mail them to Paris later?"

"I have a better idea," Jack announced.

"And suddenly I'm worried," Will muttered.

"I'll channel Erik, an' ask what he wants me to do with his stuff," Jack explained cheerfully.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Because."

"Oh."

Jack closed his eyes and concentrated. "All right. Channeling the Phantom…channeling…"

"Feel any arias coming on?" Will asked dryly.

Jack frowned. "No. Maybe the spiritual plane is less accessible from here than it was by the octopus."

"Jack, do _you_ even know what you're talking about?" Elizabeth asked.

"Not really. Now hush, I'm concentrating. Channeling a phantom or a ghost or whatever in a long cloak…"

"How did I come to be here?" a new voice asked.

Jack opened his eyes, and he, Will and Elizabeth all looked at the new figure in their midst. He was wearing a long cloak, and he certainly looked like he could be a ghost of some sort. He also had long hair tied neatly back, and a short beard. His eyes were blue, and so was the rest of him. He was somewhat indistinct around the edges, lending credence to the theory that he was a ghost. Whoever he was, he definitely wasn't Erik.

"Who are you?" Jack asked, ever the tactful one.

"I am Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi master," the newcomer answered, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

"You're definitely not who I was trying to channel," Jack observed.

"That was polite, Jack," Will muttered. Jack shot him a "who, me?" expression.

Qui-Gon didn't take offense though. "I didn't think I was who you were trying to contact," he said lightly. "Considering I don't know any of you."

"Oh, right, I'm Jack, he's Will, she's Elizabeth."

"It is nice to meet you," Qui-Gon said graciously, "and it would also be nice to know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be on Tatooine."

"Tatoo-what?" Jack asked confusedly. "I don't know that country…"

"It's a planet, a very long way from here. I need to be there for a cameo appearance. As my former Padawan, Obi-Wan, walks away into the desert, I'm to be seen walking away beside him."

"Obi-Wan," Jack repeated. "Hey, I've heard that name, you're one of those _Star Wars_ people, aren't you?"

"I am," Qui-Gon agreed. "And I was en route to the third movie, intending to arrive for the last few seconds, but somehow instead I am here."

"Sorry about that," Jack offered. "I was trying to channel a friend, and somehow I got you instead."

"Interesting," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. "It seems the Force has brought me to you. Perhaps I can be of assistance in contacting your friend."

"That really isn't necessary," Will put in. "In fact, this entire channeling business really isn't necessary. You go ahead to your cameo, we'll just keep walking—"

"No, no, don't knock it, Will, this is very interesting," Jack interrupted, dismissing Will with a great deal of gesturing.

Will glared upwards. "We are _never_ going to get out of this cornfield at this rate."

"But we might have some fun," Elizabeth pointed out, putting a hand on his arm. "Lighten up a little, okay?"

"_Lighten up_?" Will repeated incredulously.

"Just…relax."

"So how's this going to work anyway?" Jack was asking.

"Gather into a circle," Qui-Gon directed, "and tell me of your friend. I will search for him through the Force."

Will wasn't happy about it, but he let Elizabeth pull him into position for the circle. Good thing too, because they really needed four people, as it's harder to make a circle with only three.

Jack, meanwhile, was considering what to say about Erik. "Well…he calls himself the Phantom. And he wears a mask. And he's good at pulling off more or less impossible stunts."

Qui-Gon's eyes were closed as he concentrated. "Yes…I think I have found one such as this." He opened his eyes. He gestured with one hand and a new person appeared in the center of the loosely-made circle.

The newcomer was wearing a mask. He was also all in purple.

"You are the Phantom?" Qui-Gon asked directly.

The man in purple looked around uncertainly. "Yes. Why am I in a cornfield?"

"Um, Qui-Gon?" Jack interrupted, waving a hand for attention. "Wrong Phantom."

Qui-Gon looked at the purple-clad Phantom, then looked at Jack. "You are certain?"

"Most definitely."

Qui-Gon gestured again, and this particular Phantom vanished, presumably back to Marvel comic books. The Jedi master closed his eyes again. "I will continue to search. Tell me more."

Jack thought about it. "He wears a black cloak, and he lurks around in the shadows a lot. And he has a dark streak. Does that help?"

"I believe so…I have found another who may be the one you seek…he moves through the shadows, and is most comfortable in the night."

Jack shrugged. "Sounds about right."

"He wears a dark cloak, and hides his face behind a mask."

"Accurate so far," Elizabeth confirmed.

"He possesses a cave below a vast city, and is a master of many weapons."

Jack thought about that one. "I s'pose Paris is vast, and Erik's good with his lasso, and at dropping things, if you can call that a weapon…"

"I sense much anger in his past. Much pain."

"Just bring him in, all right?" Jack advised. "This one's gotta be right."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and gestured. A man in a long balck cape appeared, wearing a rather…interesting mask.

"On the other hand…" Jack amended. "Who are you?"

The man in the mask stared at him. "I'm Batman. How did I get here?"

"This is not the one you wished to find?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Not exactly," Jack said with a frown. "Sure bears a lot of similarities…"

Batman, meanwhile, was looking at Qui-Gon oddly. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Doubtful." A gesture, and Batman was gone. Qui-Gon prepared himself to search again. "Tell me more," he requested again. "What is unique about this masked man? What makes him different from other phantoms?"

Jack didn't answer at once this time, trying to remember something, so Will and Elizabeth had a try.

"His mask is white, for one thing," Elizabeth offered. "And we know he's from Paris."

"And we know he drops pipe organs and chandeliers out of the sky," Will added.

"He looks like Butler and sings like Crawford, his source is Leroux, his back story is Kay, his songs are Webber and his personality is Holland," Jack said suddenly. "He's a misanthropic psychopath and he has a lovely singing voice." Jack frowned thoughtfully. "But I don't think he's a—"

"I found him," Qui-Gon said abruptly, and gestured a third time. This time, by some miracle, they actually got Erik.

Erik looked around, looked at Jack, and decided to blame him. "Why am I here again?"

"You aren't. Exactly. We channeled you," Jack explained cheerfully. "Spiritually, that is. Qui-Gon helped. Erik, meet Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon, meet Erik."

Erik was somewhat taken aback by the spiritual channeling explanation, but managed a "hello, nice to meet you" to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon nodded. "It is nice to meet you as well."

Erik nodded an acknowledgment, then tried to get back to how exactly he'd gotten—or not exactly gotten—to where he was. "So…you're channeling me?"

Jack grinned. "Right."

"_Why?"_

"I found your hat. What do you want me to do with it?"

Erik grew even more incredulous. "You channeled me spiritually to ask about my _hat_?"

"Hats are important!" Jack said indignantly. "Fangirls melt all the time over hats, you know how excited they get about black fedoras and tricorns?"

"Actually, you do have a point," Erik admitted.

"And a fedora. What should I do with it?"

Erik considered. "Well, you caught me between chapters one and two of _A Rose Crushed and Broken_. Put the fedora in Christine's dressing room, I'll find it in chapter three."

"_Christine's dressing room_?" Jack repeated with interest.

Erik gave him a dark look. "She's not in it. And if she was, _you_ would do well to stay out of it."

"Right then, never mind," Jack said agreeably, "we'll just send the hat there."

Qui-Gon gestured very slightly and the hat disappeared. "Done," he said quietly.

"We've got a chandelier too, you want that back?" Jack asked.

"Is it the new one or the old one?"

Jack looked at the chandelier. "I have no idea."

"Is it broken?"

"No."

"The new one then. It needs to be back hanging from the ceiling; it has a brief appearance in chapter six."

Another slight gesture from the Jedi Master, and the chandelier disappeared as well.

"Is that everything?" Erik asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Jack answered. "Unless you lost a tree named Egbert."

Erik stared at him. "No."

"That's all then."

"Right…thanks for sending those back, I—have to go," Erik said abruptly, listening to something no one else could hear. "Chapter two is about to start, the author's giving her disclaimer. I've got about a page to get in place, you better send me back so I can get there in time."

One more gesture and Erik disappeared.

"He really does have a lovely singing voice," Elizabeth said irrelevantly. Will did not look overpleased by the sentiment.

"Thanks for yer help with that," Jack said cheerfully to Qui-Gon. "If ye ever need a pirate ship for something, feel free to call."

"I have rather enjoyed the exercise myself, and Jedi always try to help those in need." Qui-Gon smiled. "Though it did take longer than I expected."

"Yeah, who'd've thought it would take four pages to channel someone?" Jack agreed.

The smile dissolved into a frown of mild concern. "I didn't realize it had been that long. I'm behind schedule for reaching Tatooine."

"Maybe you'll just be a little late," Elizabeth suggested.

"The problem with a three-second cameo," Qui-Gon said, "is that if you're late…you miss it." He was gazing into the distance at something the others couldn't see. "Yes…as I thought, the end credits are running. I have entirely missed my appearance."

There was silence for a moment. Predictably, it was broken by Jack. "Oops."

Qui-Gone smiled, laughter in his eyes. "Indeed. But perhaps it is as it was meant to be. Liam Neeson is busy anyway."

"If you say so," Jack agreed cheerfully, despite having no idea what Qui-Gon was talking about.

"Say, Qui-Gon, not meaning to impose but if you've got some time," Elizabeth said slowly, "do you think you could find the fastest way out of this cornfield?"

"Compared to finding a man from a different century, a different country, and a different fictional source entirely, finding the way out of a cornfield should be easy," Qui-Gon said dryly.

"Hasn't been for twenty chapters," Will muttered.

Qui-Gon thought for a few seconds. "Keep going that way for fifty feet, turn left, go straight for 200 yards."

"Then what?" Elizabeth prompted.

"Then nothing. You'll be out by then."

"We were _that_ close?" Will said incredulously. "_That_ close, and we've wasted all this time?"

"Look at it this way," Jack said pleasantly, "_because_ we were that close, we could _afford_ to waste the time. All perspective, mate."

"Whatever. Can we leave now?" Will requested.

"Sure, why not? Want to come, Qui-Gon?" Jack asked.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I think it would be better if I returned to my own galaxy."

"Are you sure? You could join my crew, I bet you'd be a great pirate."

"I think not."

Jack sighed. "I just can't hire anyone tonight. Oh well, see you around then."

"May the Force be with you."

Jack, Will and Elizabeth looked at each other uncertainly. "Uh…yeah, you too," Jack said finally.

Qui-Gon gestured one final time, and slowly faded away.

"That's a little strange," Will said, looking at the spot Qui-Gon had recently occupied. "Do you think he was right about the way out though?"

"Only one way to find out," Elizabeth observed.

"Right," Jack agreed. "We'll aim for the exit, come what may, throwing caution to the wind! And if we find the way out and bump into Norrington an' his multitudes o' soldiers, we can always run."

Will looked a little surprised. "Somehow I would've expected you to want to stand and fight."

"Why? Multitudes against three? That would be stupid. I mean, even though I'm Captain Jack Sparrow an' that gives us a distinct advantage, we'd still be at a disadvantage if the multitudes were big enough. Always better to run and live than fight an' die. 'cause if you run today you can fight tomorrow, but if you fight today you might not be able to run tomorrow, ye see?"

Will blinked. "Actually…I think I do see. That worries me."

"Right. So, heading for the exit now?" Jack asked.

"Right," Will agreed.

"Right," Jack said. "Forward charge!" He thrust one fist into the air, and marched off down the row.

Will and Elizabeth followed, if somewhat less dramatically. They did that a lot. Following Jack, you know.

Meanwhile, Jack wasn't the only pirate in the cornfield that evening. As has been often mentioned but never proved, most of his crew was hanging about somewhere. Hanging as in standing around, not hanging as in on a gallows, although if Norrington caught up to them that would probably change. In any case, although the reader currently has no proof of their presence it is a definite fact that they were out there. Among them was Mr. Gibbs, who we do have proof of existing because he has already had a small appearance. Gibbs, of course, disappeared from sight when he went down a side path, shortly after hitting Erik with a frying pan. He had some strange adventures involving walnuts, a moose, and a palm tree, but eventually stumbled his way out of the cornfield, the first one to do so in many a chapter. His activities since then are essentially irrelevant. What matters to our narrative is what exactly he was doing as Jack, Will and Elizabeth made their way toward the exit.

At that moment Gibbs was standing a few feet within the cornfield, listening to approaching footsteps. He waited until the person making the footsteps was directly in front of him. In the dark he could see little more than a shadowed form, but it was still enough to aim by. Once his target was in place, he lifted his weapon and swung.

The frying pan connected with a solid thump. Gibbs' victim uttered a startled "whoa!" and pitched forward to land face-down on the ground. Gibbs was about to congratulate himself when he realized an unfortunate fact. He knew that "whoa." He bent down and turned over the sprawled form.

Gibbs winced. "Jack?"

"'ello, mate. 'ow's life treatin' ye?"

"Oh…fine," Gibbs said vaguely. "An' you?"

"Not bad. Bit of a headache though," Jack said, then frowned. "An' they really need to stop ringin' that bloody bell."

Gibbs, who didn't hear any bell, nodded agreeably. "Mebbe they'll stop soon."

It was right about then that Will and Elizabeth finally caught up to Jack. The pirate captain had gone charging off down the row, while Will and Elizabeth followed more slowly, resulting in some distance between them. They'd just closed the distance.

"Jack! What happened?" Elizabeth asked, concerned.

"'ad a bit of a run-in with a frying pan," Jack explained, then turned his head to focus somewhat unsteadily on Gibbs. "How many times have I told ye, check who yer hitting _before_ you use the frying pan!"

Gibbs shrugged guiltily. "Sorry, Jack. Thought you were Norrington."

Everyone spent a moment staring at Gibbs.

"My life is _over_," Jack said suddenly, voice anguished. "I've been confused with _Norrington_. The day I look like a Navy commodore, there's just no point in going on. Someone hang me, please."

"Jack, you don't look like a Navy commodore," Elizabeth said flatly. "I have rarely seen someone look _less_ like a member of the Navy."

"Really?" Jack said hopefully.

"Really. In fact, I can't _imagine_ how Mr. Gibbs could make such a _mistake_," she said, glaring at the pirate in question.

"It was _dark_," Gibbs said defensively.

"Not really. There's lots of stars. Lots of 'em are orbiting my head," Jack put in, good humor restored. The pirate captain, by the way, was still flat on his back, and had been for the entire duration of the conversation. This was getting somewhat ridiculous.

Gibbs handed the frying pan to Elizabeth, and he and Will, one to an arm, pulled Jack up. Jack swayed, then steadied on his feet. He nodded firmly. "I'm _alright_." He straightened his hat, then started toward the end of the row, walk no more unsteady than usual. "Let's get outta here."

It was only a few feet farther to the open fields beyond the corn. By some miracle, they actually made it out. By an even greater miracle, there was no sign of the Navy. There was someone else though.

Jack grinned. "Anamaria!"

SLAP.

Jack's head snapped to the side, cheek stinging. He blinked rapidly as his vision cleared. "I didn't deserve that," he muttered.

SLAP.

It was as pain flared along his jaw for the second time that Jack realized something important. "Hey, wait a minute!" He stared at Anamaria, thunderstruck. "I really _didn't_ deserve that!"

Her eyebrows rose and so did her hand, despite the fact that two slaps were usually sufficient.

"No, no, think about it!" Jack yelped, arms over his head. "I haven't _done_ anything!"

Ana thought about it, and slowly her hand came down. "That's right, you haven't. Sorry, Jack, guess it's habit."

"Some habit," Jack muttered, rubbing his jaw. "But, actually, I s'pose this is a good thing, we've got reinforcements now if Norrie shows up. Anymore o' my crew around?"

"They're scattered all over this area," Gibbs put in helpfully. "Cotton and a couple others are down that direction a ways."

"Mr. Cotton? Good, I need to have a talk with him…" Jack said, starting off in the direction Gibbs had indicated.

"Uh, cap'n? How can ye have a talk _with_ Cotton?" Gibbs asked, as everyone trailed along after Jack. "'cause, y'know, that suggests the other person answers, and Cotton, well…"

Jack shrugged. "So I need to talk at him. Whatever."

Further talk about talking ended when they came up to Mr. Cotton and a couple others.

"Mr. Cotton!" Jack exclaimed. "I have…somewhere…around here…" He frowned, patting the many pockets of his coat.

"Oh _wonderful_," Will groaned.

"Wait, wait, I'll find it…" Jack reached into a pocket, and pulled out a small animal. "Oh. Hello, Rodney."

"Chatter."

"Oh, hey, no hard feelings about before, right?"

"Chatter chatter. Chatter."

"Good, good. An' yer dream's over anyway?"

"Chatter," Rodney confirmed. "Chatter _chatter_ chatter."

"Right you are," Jack agreed, and allowed Rodney to take up a perch on top of his hat. "Say, did you notice what pocket I put the parrot in?"

Mr. Cotton started looking interested in the conversation again.

Rodney thought a moment. "Chatter."

Jack opened the relevant pocket. A blue-feathered ball shot out, clouted Jack in the chin as it went by, then winged over to land on Mr. Cotton's shoulder.

"Hoist the sails! Squawk!"

"Mr. Cotton says 'thank ye'," Gibbs said helpfully.

Jack nodded. "Yer welcome." He looked at the pirates around him and beamed. "Gotta love reunions. Always a heartwarming experience."

"Looked like a painful experience to me," Elizabeth muttered.

Jack nodded. "That too," he agreed, and rubbed his head. "But _anything's_ better'n that cornfield."

Elizabeth looked back toward the cornstalks, dark in the moonlight. "Do you think it's all over? The randomness, and strange things happening, now that we're outside? Do you think it's all done?"

At that precise moment three men ran up. The first had glasses and impossibly thick eyebrows, with a matching mustache. The second had a shock of curly red hair and a maniacal gleam in his eyes. The third was almost normal looking, except for a slightly pointed cloth hat.

"Excuse me," the first man said, "but have you seen a pair of pajamas lately? I think an elephant stole mine."

Jack, Will, Elizabeth and the various pirates stared at him.

"Y'know what," he said after a moment, "never mind, I'll find them myself." He rushed on. The second man honked a bicycle horn at Jack, the third man tipped his hat to everyone, and then they both followed the man with the mustache.

Everyone watched the three men disappear into the night, and then Jack turned to Elizabeth. "As to yer question…no. I don't think the randomness is done just yet."


	21. Plans and Pistols and Rain

Disclaimer: It's mine. I stole it. Pirate, you know.

Welcome back to Tavia's realm of madness. We're closing in on the end, I admit…but we're not quite there yet! Yes, more strange and interesting adventures in store, and I promise you a climax to come that will outstrip all that came before in randomness…but that's coming. For right now, we have chapter quotes to address.

Quotes, um…no one guessed? Well…I'll tell you anyway! They're fairly obscure, I admit. Chapter 19: "Because you asked me to," Edward Scissorhands. Chapter 20: "Always better to run and live than fight and die," The Man Who Cried. Second one is extremely obscure, I've heard that's his least-scene movie in the U.S. Another quote in this one, I promise it's far less obscure! Really!

Yeah, just read on…

**Chapter the Twenty-First**

"Seems to me we've still got an unspecified number of problems," Jack announced. He, Will, Elizabeth, Gibbs, Anamaria, Rodney and the few other pirates putting in an appearance in the last chapter were sitting near—but not actually within—the cornfield. For the moment, all was quiet, without a single soldier or random element in sight, and thus it was a good time to look over the situation. "Which is an improvement actually," Jack went on, "since we used to have an unspecified number o' problems plus one."

"Jack, you're not making sense," Elizabeth observed, as though this was a new condition.

"Our problems are the two curly wigs—"

"_What_?" Elizabeth interrupted confusedly.

"Norrie and Gillette," Jack clarified. "The two o' them, plus the unspecified number o' soldiers that are all running 'round here. We used to have all those problems, plus the problem o' getting out o' the cornfield. Well, now we're out an' all we've got to do is get back to the _Pearl_ an' sail away, but we've got an unspecified number of soldiers in our way. So we've got an unspecified number of problems."

"Wait a minute, Jack," Will said slowly, "didn't you originally go into the cornfield to escape Norrington and his unspecified number of soldiers? You jumped out our window and all you really needed to do from there was go back to the _Pearl_ but the soldiers were in the way so you went into the cornfield instead."

Jack thought back. "Yeah. Pretty much that's how it happened. So what?"

"So twenty chapters later we're in the _exact same spot_ we were then! Trying to get you back to the _Pearl_ despite the soldiers in the way. A hundred and seventy-five pages, and the plot hasn't advanced _at all_!"

"That's because there isn't a plot," Jack reminded him. "Now, question is, what's our next plan for getting' round the Navy?"

"Why don't you tell us, Jack, you always have the plans," Elizabeth said dryly.

"Because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. An' it so happens, I _do_ have a plan," Jack admitted.

"Tell us about it, cap'n," Gibbs prompted.

"Multiply an' conquer," Jack said promptly, then frowned. "Wait…that ain't right, is it?"

Will stared at him. "Considering I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Divide!" Jack said suddenly. "I meant _divide_ and conquer!"

"I still don't know what that has to do with anything."

"We're gonna split up, see? Gibbs, Ana, all other pirates, you go round up the rest o' the crew that's wanderin' 'round here. Time we got 'em all together in case we need to actually fight the soldiers. Elizabeth, you ought to go find Norrington an' try an' talk some sense into him so maybe we won't need to fight it out. After all, I ain't here to break any laws—not today anyway—I'll just go peaceably if he'd let me."

"He's not going to like that idea," Elizabeth informed Jack.

"Yeah, I know, but if he'd listen to any of us he'd probably listen to you. So while you do that, I'll try an' sneak out past the soldiers an' get back to the _Pearl_. 'cause if I can get back to the ship we won't have a problem. Norrington knows I'm a pirate but he hasn't got any proof anyone else is."

Will looked at him doubtfully. "He won't be just a little suspicious of a lot of people with swords wandering around a cornfield in the middle of the night?"

Jack grinned. "Sure he'll be _suspicious_, but he's a law-abiding citizen of 'is Majesty, Norrie can't go arresting people without any proof they're pirates."

Will had to admit he had a point there.

"Suppose you do get back to the ship, Jack," Anamaria said, "how do we know that if we're wandering around the cornfield?"

That briefly stumped Jack. He soon found the answer though, because he's Captain Jack Sparrow. "I'll send Rodney an' he can tell ye," he said, indicating the squirrel still perched on his hat. "That okay with you, Rodney?"

"Chatter chatter," Rodney agreed.

"Say, that's perfect," Jack said enthusiastically. "An' I can also send Rodney if I get into trouble an' need reinforcements."

Not altogether surprisingly it was Will who pointed out the flaw in that idea. "Wait a minute, Jack, you'll send Rodney if you're back to the _Pearl_, and you send Rodney if you're in trouble?"

"Right, weren't you listening?"

"Jack, _you're_ the only one who understands Rodney, how will we know which it is?"

"Well it's really very simple to understand 'im," Jack said matter-of-factly. "Look, we'll just go over the relevant vocabulary. Rodney, say 'Jack's back on the _Pearl_ an' he's fine.'"

"Chatter chatter chatter."

"An' now say, 'Jack's in trouble, do something about it.'"

"Chatter chatter chatter."

"Ye see the difference?" Jack asked Will.

Will looked at him blankly. "No."

"Oh." Jack considered. "Tell ye what, Rodney, two chatters means everything's alright, three chatters means trouble. Ye got that, everyone?"

Everyone got it.

Just a few more objections to sort out. "So what if the squirrel never shows up?" Anamaria asked. "What do we do then?"

"Oh. Well…" Jack considered. "I s'pose that would mean we're all still wandering around here. So how about we plan on meeting up at dawn, if nothing cataclysmic an' life-altering happens between now an' then?"

There was a slight flaw in that idea. Namely that they'd never yet been able to deliberately find anyone at any time. Which Elizabeth pointed out, quite reasonably.

"No, no, I've got a plan for that," Jack said confidently. "We're meeting at dawn, right? So we meet at the western side o' the cornfield. Everybody just aim for the rising sun, what could go wrong with that?"

There was a moment's silence. "Only that the sun rises in the _east_," Elizabeth said finally.

"I knew that," Jack said hastily. "I meant, head _away_ from the sun, that's just as easy. If everybody goes to the same part o' fields near the cornfield at dawn, we're sure to find each other."

One last question from Anamaria. "That's fine at dawn, but suppose something cataclysmic and life-altering _does_ happen before then? How do we find each other if we need to?"

Will had an answer for that. "This cornfield really isn't that big, even if we have spent a ridiculous amount of time wandering in it. If one of us sends up a shout, the others will probably hear it."

And Gibbs had an objection to that. "How will we know it isn't Norrington shouting?"

"That's what _I_ said," Jack said at once, "when he suggested this weird idea about shouting a few chapters ago."

"What we need is a code," Gibbs speculated. "Maybe a snatch of song."

"That's the other thing I said!" Jack turned a very smug look on Will. "See?"

Will refused to concede anything. "He's a member of _your_ crew, Jack, of course he thinks the way you do. Insanely."

"Well sure, that's why I hired 'em all, 'cause they're all completely mad."

"So if we need each other before dawn, we'll send up a song," Gibbs concluded.

"Something nice an' piratey," Jack put in. "Norrington'd never sing anything piratey, I think it'd kill him."

Will blinked. "_Piratey_, Jack?"

"Let's see _you_ make 'pirate' an adjective," Jack countered.

"Piratical," Will said coolly.

"Now yer just showin' off," Jack informed him, then turned back to the rest of the group. "So everybody clear on what they're doin'?"

He had to turn back to Will almost at once anyway. "I'm not," Will objected. "You haven't mentioned me yet."

"Yer with me, didn't I say that? Figure I've got better odds finding a way past the Navy if you come with me," Jack explained.

This almost sounded like a compliment. It would be practically the first in a very long night, and so Will was naturally suspicious that it really was one. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely. 'cause you know what they say…" Jack grinned. "Where there's a Will there's a way."

Will didn't groan, but it was a narrow thing.

By now everyone was getting to their feet, ready to set off. "Any last orders, cap'n?" Gibbs asked.

Jack considered. "Stay out o' the cornfield, whatever ye do. If ye get a chance to take out the Navy, go for it but don't be foolish. An' fire at will."

Gibbs frowned. "Well…if you say so, cap'n." Then he raised his pistol and aimed at Mr. Turner.

Jack hastily jumped in front of Will, arms out in a shielding pose. "_No_, I didn't mean fire at _Will_, I meant fire at…uh…" He trailed off. "Never mind. Just…if ye see the Navy, fire if ye want to."

Gibbs shrugged. "Sure, cap'n, but why didn't ye just say that to begin with?"

Jack's head drooped. "…I don't know."

"Well, why don't we just all get going before we get any more confused, hmm?" Will suggested rather pointedly.

Which really wasn't a bad suggestion at all. Farewells were said, well-wishes given, and they began to disperse.

"Oh! One more thing!" Jack called after his departing crew and friends. "Don't panic!"

They looked at each other somewhat confusedly. "About what?" Elizabeth asked.

Jack shrugged. "Anything. Everything. It's just a nice, friendly piece of advice. Always relevant, always helpful—"

"Time to go, Jack," Will interrupted.

"—they could put it on the cover of a book in big friendly letters, it would make everyone feel much better about the world—"

Will took hold of Jack's arm, and firmly pulled him in their chosen direction.

Jack waved with his free hand. "So long! Be seeing you!"

And everyone scattered into the night.

Elsewhere in the cornfield, other conversations were being carried out.

"Maybe a giant tumbleweed flattened Sparrow too."

It was a very long moment before Norrington answered. "Lieutenant Gillette," he said slowly.

"Yes, sir?"

"Never, ever, mention tumbleweeds in my presence again. Consider that an order."

"Uh…yes, sir."

Silence descended back onto the crowd of Navy soldiers walking in a clump along the cornstalks. For a few moments, anyway.

"You know what the Monty Python boys say?" Gillette ventured.

Norrington glared at him. "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," he snapped.

"Actually, I was thinking of 'always look on the bright side of life.'"

Norrington went on glaring. "Do you have a point?"

"Just, you know, that maybe we should be focusing on the positive right now. I mean, yes, we're out in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of the night chasing an insane pirate, who we don't seem to be getting anywhere near catching, and yes, we've been out here for hours now and unfortunate things keep happening along the way, but we should still be looking on the bright side."

The glare went on. "What could possibly be the bright side right now?"

"Well…" Gillette shrugged. "Things can't get any worse."

That's when the rain began.

Norrington was silent. The glare said it all.

Gillette smiled weakly. "All right…_now_ it can't get any worse."

That's when the lightning started.

"Lieutenant, do you _want_ to be an ensign?" Norrington asked, water beginning to pool on his curls.

"Now wait, Commodore, sir, you can't blame _me_ for the weather," Gillette protested. "I mean, if it's going to rain on an entire cornfield, you can't say that's _my_ fault."

Much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, Norrington had to acknowledge that Gillette really couldn't be blamed for the weather. If clouds were going to gather in the sky and rain over the entire area, that certainly wasn't something the Lieutenant had control over. It was around there in his thoughts that Norrington realized something. It was a clear night. There were no clouds. Except for right over them.

"It's not raining over the entire cornfield," Norrington said, somewhat dazedly. "It's only raining…right _here_."

"See? See? Bright side!" Gillette said triumphantly. "If it's not raining everywhere, we can walk away from the rain!"

This was almost reasonable. So the wet Navy picked up their trudging pace and walked a little faster. The rain—and the lightning—continued.

"Uh, Commodore?" Gillette said tentatively, after several minutes of futile attempts to outrun the rain. "It seems to be following us."

"Wonderful," Norrington muttered. "Just wonderful."

"But I do have some good news!" Gillette said brightly.

"You've thought of a brilliant plan to catch Sparrow within the next five minutes so we can all get out of here?"

"Uh…no. But I did save a bunch of money on car insurance by switching to Geico!"

Norrington stared at his second-in-command for a long, long moment. "Lieutenant," he said tightly.

"Yes, sir?"

Norrington pointed at random. "Walk that way."

Gillette frowned. "Are you sure it's wise to split our forces at this time?"

"Are you sure it's wise to be hit over the head by a very heavy pistol?"

Gillette swallowed. "I'll, uh, walk that way."

"Good man."

So Gillette walked off in a random direction. If Norrington had been hoping the clouds would follow the lieutenant, he was disappointed. So the commodore and his unspecified number of soldiers marched off in the rain.

Meanwhile, Jack and Will were wandering. Which they'd been doing a lot of. But at least this time they were wandering next to the cornfield, instead of within it. The fact still remained though, that they'd spent a lot of time wandering around together this particular night.

"Y'know, all this time we've spent wand'rin' 'round together this particular night, kinda funny we haven't run outta things to talk about," Jack commented.

"Well, we haven't yet," Will said, focus not on the conversation but on the walking.

"Think we might some time?"

"I don't know, Jack."

Jack was silent for a moment. Only a moment though. "Y'know…if we ever _did_ run out of things to talk about…we could always tell jokes to pass the time."

That finally got Will to look at him. "Jokes, Jack?"

"Sure!" Jack said enthusiastically. "Have ye ever heard the one about the whale that was falling through the sky along with a bowl of petunias that was thinking—"

"Jack," Will interrupted. "What is it with you and petunias?"

"What's wrong with petunias?" Jack demanded indignantly. "Why does it bother you if I happen to like _petunias_?"

Will stared at him a moment. "Bet you're—no! No, I don't!" he said hastily, throwing up his hands in a warding gesture, mindful of crazed fangirls and popcorn. "I take it back, I didn't mean it, I don't think you're _anything_!"

Jack frowned, looking troubled. "You do think I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, right?" he asked hopefully.

Will blinked. "Well, yes, of course."

Jack exhaled, looking relieved. "Oh good, 'cause if you didn't think I was Captain Jack Sparrow I would've had to have a serious identity crisis. An' that would've been sad, 'cause I _like_ being Captain Jack Sparrow, y'know."

Will grinned and shook his head. "You're weird, Jack."

"Daft, mate. The word's daft."

"That too," Will agreed.

They wandered on, and after a moment Jack asked, "So do you want to know what the bowl of petunias was thinking as it fell?"

Will shrugged. "All right, tell me. What were the petunias thinking?"

"Oh no, not again."

Will shook his head. "Daft, Jack."

"Nothing wrong with that," Jack said cheerfully. "Makes life more fun."

"Fun. If you tell me you've actually enjoyed this incredibly strange ramble through an _incredibly_ strange cornfield…"

"Well it hasn't been _all_ bad."

"No, of course not," Will said sarcastically. "There's only been carnivorous mattresses, and killer salad bowls, and insane knights who say very odd words—"

"You mean ecky-ecky-ecky-pa_tong_-whoop-_pong_-oui?"

Will stopped walking. "Yes," he said carefully. "That."

"Don't know why that bothers you, it's really very fun to say ecky-ecky—"

"_Moving on_," Will snapped, and resumed his walking and his listing of disasters. "And there was the evil cornstalk of death, and the giant octopus, and—"

"Yes, yes, yes, but it hasn't been _all_ bad. There were the squishy bears, those were fun. And I found Hector, and met Rodney," Jack said with a gesture towards his hat.

"Chatter," Rodney put in, comfortably crouched on top of Jack's tricorn.

"Right you are," Jack agreed. "Plus, there's been all kinds of terrible things happening to Norrington, that's been fun."

"Jack, that's horrible."

Jack just looked at him. "Like you didn't enjoy the harpoon hitting 'im."

Will hedged. "Well…"

"See? So there's the good and the bad. There's really fun squirrels, and there's a Navy officer emerging from those cornstalks up ahead. _Hit the deck_!"

Without further warning Jack crashed into Will and they both went down. A bullet whizzed by overhead, hitting nothing. Will was flat on his back, Jack was crouched over him, with his pistol in hand, and Rodney was picking himself up and chattering irritably to himself. The bullet was aimed a good deal higher than any of them. In fact, they were all close enough to the ground at this point that the tall grass of the field hid them from sight, and the soldier didn't bother firing again. Silence descended. Briefly.

"Jack."

"Yeah?"

"Your knee is on my chest."

"Oh. Sorry." Jack started to get up. But then he stepped on a fatally placed corncob. Jack slipped, lost his balance, tripped over Will, and, arms pinwheeling wildly, fell over Will's legs.

"I can't say this is much of an improvement," Will commented dryly.

Jack had other issues. "Wow…where'd everybody go? Will? What happened to the cornstalks? Where'd everybody go? Everything's gone dark!"

"Jack, nothing's gone anywhere."

"I've gone _blind_! This is _terrible_! Whoever heard of a blind pirate? One-eyed, sure, but not blind!"

"Jack, you're not blind," Will said patiently. "Your hat slipped over your eyes."

"Oh. Oh yeah. Thanks." Jack reached up to adjust his hat. He gave the brim a yank. Then another one. He tried to get a hold with his other hand too, but that hand was still holding his pistol. A few more frantic yanks had no effect.

"Jack…"

"It's stuck," Jack explained, yanking a few more times.

"I can see that."

"I wish _I_ could." More yanks, no results.

"Jack, how hard can it be—"

"The gun's kinda gettin' in me way," Jack said trying again to get a two-handed grip on his hat brim, while holding his pistol. He was a hand short.

Will sighed. "Here, give me the pistol." He reached a hand up in the general direction of Jack's head.

"No, nobody touches my pistol," Jack said firmly, a statement accompanied by another yank.

Will shrugged, something that was easier to do from flat on his back than you might think. He was still on his back because Jack was half-sprawled over his lower legs, and, distracted by his hat, hadn't bothered to move yet. "All right, let _me_ get your hat off then."

"No, nobody touches my hat either."

"Jack, this is ridiculous."

"Only kinda," Jack said with another yank.

It was about then that Will saw something through the waving grass around them. "No, this is completely ridiculous because that soldier is coming towards us right now!"

Jack froze. "How'd he find us?"

"Gee, do you think maybe he's following our voices?" Will asked sarcastically.

"That's a thought," Jack acknowledged.

"Here's another thought. You're holding a pistol, use it! Or better yet, give it to me since I can actually _see_!"

"No, nobody touches my pistol," Jack repeated, waving it about as though he expected to happen upon the right direction by accident and without the benefit of eyesight.

"Jack, fire right!"

"Okay, which direction?"

There was a pause. "_Right_."

"Oh. Oh, right, you meant 'fire _right_,' I thought you meant 'fire, right?' So things got a little confus—"

"Jack, fire!"

"Firing!" Jack leveled his gun towards his right, and fired out across the cornfield. As the crack of the shot faded, there was silence. Briefly. "Wait. Your right, or my right?"

"My right," Will said flatly.

Jack considered. "Oops."

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"Alright, there's got to be some—"

"Jack, straight!"

Somewhere under his hat, Jack's eyebrows shot upwards. "Yes, _definitely_!"

"No, I meant fire straight!"

"I can't."

"What do you mean you _can't_?"

"I can't. I only had one shot."

Will stared straight up at the sky. "Why did you only have one shot, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, y'know, for ten years I walked around with one pistol, one shot, no additional powder. An' it worked. So I figure, why waste money on extra bullets?"

"Jack…Barbossa is dead, you're a successful pirate captain, buy an extra bullet!"

"Do you have a graph or pie chart to confirm that it's to my financial advantage to spend money on an extra bullet?"

"No…but I have a soldier standing over me right now. Good enough reason?"

"Yeah, that'll do." Hat still jammed over his eyes, Jack turned his head in what he could only hope was the right direction. "Pleased to meet ye."

"Hello, _Mister_ Sparrow. Consider yourself under the arrest of the Royal British Navy."

Jack raised his gun. "_Captain_. And I've got ye covered."

"With an empty gun. I'm not deaf."

"I lied. It's loaded."

The soldier sounded skeptical. "You lied."

"Oh yes," Jack assured him, "right through my shiny gold teeth. Pirate, you know."

"Jack," Will said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"You're aiming in the wrong direction."

"Oh. Um…"

"Drop your weapon at once, Mr. Sparrow, or suffer the consequences."

Jack didn't move. "He's pointing a gun at me, isn't he?"

"Yes," Will confirmed.

"A loaded gun?"

"I would assume so."

"Right then," Jack concluded, and carefully put his pistol down.

Hands free, Jack could finally get a good grasp on his hat. He gave one mighty tug, and, finally, achieved the desired goal. He carefully set his hat back on the top of his head where it belonged. Then he took his first look at the solder.

Jack's face crumpled. "Oh no, not _you_. It's bad enough to be arrested by Norrington, but to be arrested by his _flunky_, who's actually got _more_ curls…humiliating, I tell ye."

Lieutenant Gillette was considerably insulted.

o/o/o/o/o/o/o

Around now the author decided she would really like to respond to reviews, but since FF is somewhat disapproving she chose to…continue the chapter instead.

Upon which Jack decided to tell Alania that the chapter is of course always random, and that the author was very much hoping that Qui-Gon would appear at the end of Revenge of the Sith, and thus her need to explain why he didn't.

Next he—Jack, you know, because this is _totally still the story_—needed to thank Kute Anime Kitty for the kind review and explain that the appearing and disappearing crossovers are really fun for the author to write.

Jack thoroughly agrees with ChaosLightning13 that Anamaria only pretends to be immune, and still insists that a computer-generated sword is not nearly as cool as a real one. But that's Jack's opinion, remember, and the author is somewhat of mixed feelings. Regarding Mel Gibson (_Passion of the Christ_), Jack suspects you meant Mel Brooks (_Robin Hood_) but wants you not to worry about that because the author gets them mixed up often. But she's really not either one. And she's not Douglas Adams either. We're sorry. Jack is of course all in favor of drinking rum, but the author has completely sworn off alcohol as a _very bad plan_ when one is underage and living in the dorms. And yes, she realizes that is not the normal college student belief. She has no desire to be normal. The story should be evidence of that.

Jack also notes, for the benefit of Spaceman Spiff, that "fine feathered friend" is a _great_ phrase.

Jack next salutes Saharan Sparrow on a great last name, and promises to poke the author about updating.

Jack then explains to Feline Freak that yes, responding to reviews is forbidden, which is why we're _completely not doing that_. Because we are law-abiding citizens of His Majesty. We swear.

Jack enjoys his rants as much as Secrett Window, and wants to know how anything with him in it could possibly be boring or stupid? The author is slightly more modest, and appreciates the compliment.

Jack is a little confused by insurreality though. Is that "Jack/Will fangirls" as in fans of both, or fans of them being romantically paired? Because the author has developed a new appreciation for Orlando after _Elizabethtown_, though she remains firmly a Jack fangirl, never a Will fangirl. As for romantic pairing, she has never written slash and never will. Enjoy the story, but slash will have to be found elsewhere.

Jack is completely floored by stickbug, who reviewed 18 times at one go. The dedication, especially for a lot of chapters from far back when, is hugely impressive. Well done! The author adores the Marx Bros., says "bloody brilliant" all the time though she's not British either, appreciates the difficulties of swallowing laughter while in computer class, congratulates you on guessing many past quotes (especially "this is how it happens to people," even recognizing that as some quote is remarkable since that was a really random line), and hopes you find many random people as your life goes on!

And then Jack bid everyone good-night. Wishing you fair winds and a traveling sea (or whatever that phrase is) until next chapter.


	22. Lieutenants and Rum

Disclaimer: No es mio. Lo siento. Yo quiero, pero no es mio. And my grammar's probably bad in the preceding, but I try.

Back again! Another tour through the randomness. To business first: last chapter's quote was "your right, or my right?" from _Once Upon a Time in Mexico_, which I actually just saw recently. Not bad, but that was the best moment in the whole thing. Well, except maybe for when he suddenly pulls out an extra arm. Anyway—congrats to PirateCat and Raquedan! Happy hunting for the quote in this chapter!

Would you believe the end of the tunnel is actually in sight? Yes…the story actually has an ending. Not today. But soon. Probably a chapter to go, and I promise you a scene of randomness beyond anything that has come so far. But that's next time. For now…enjoy!

Chapter the Twenty-second

"This is going to make the commodore very happy," Gillette announced. He was marching Jack and Will along the edge of the cornfield. They were in front of him, his pistol aimed at their backs.

"Well, that is nice to know. Good to find out that someone's goin' to be happy from all o' this. Doesn't that make you feel good to know this'll make Norrington happy?" Jack asked Will. "Doesn't it make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?"

Will stared at him. "No."

Jack frowned. "Yeah. Me neither."

Gillette went on. "Yes, Commodore Norrington is going to be very pleased about this, yes indeed."

"—ee-do," Jack put in.

Will blinked. "What?"

"Indeed-ee-do. You know. Indee…never mind."

"I am very glad I was able to capture you myself, the Commodore will certainly forgive me for the rain after this."

Jack and Will looked at each other. "Do we want to know why Norrington is blaming him for rain?" Will asked

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"I might even get a promotion out of this! Capturing a dangerous criminal—and his associate—is a very fine thing! Just think of it, Lieutenant Commander Gillette, doesn't that sound nice?"

It was around then that Jack and Will entirely stopped listening. And if they're not listening, there's no reason we should. They chose to pursue their own conversation instead.

"Elizabeth is going to be furious with us," Will said, voice glum.

"Oh, I don't know," Jack said easily. "Mebbe not. She expects this kinda thing from me. She might be furious with _you_ though."

"Thanks, Jack, _now_ I feel better."

"Any time. But you know," Jack began, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we could always blame it all on Hector. He wouldn't mind."

Will gave him a distinctly odd look. "Do you really think Elizabeth will believe us if we tell her a _bonsai tree_ caused us to be captured by the Navy?"

"Well…" Jack thought about it. "Maybe not. I always have thought Elizabeth was rather intelligent…although she did marry you."

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding, mate, I'm kidding!" Jack said with a grin. "She's a smart lass an' yer both lucky to 'ave each other. Happy now?"

Will was somewhat mollified. "Hmph. Anyway, we're still in an awful mess."

"As if that's a new situation," Jack said lightly. "If we have to, we can prob'ly talk our way 'round Norringon. An' I s'pose we'll just have to hope he doesn't eat you."

"_What_?"

"Remember how we were talking 'bout how everything in this cornfield wants to eat you, an' I was wondering if Norrington would eat you, given the chance? Y'know, I'm thinking he probably wouldn't, actually," Jack said thoughtfully. "He's too respectable for that."

"He's too respectable to eat me," Will said blankly.

"Right. Because that's called cannibalism, and is in fact frowned upon in most cultures. So ye probably don't have to worry about Norrington eating you."

"I really wasn't worrying about that, Jack."

"Oh?" Jack grinned. "Good for you, good attitude!"

"I'm a lot more worried about him hanging one or the both of us!"

Jack frowned. "There is that. No reason to worry about that just yet though. Somethin'll happen sooner or later, it always does."

What happened, sooner rather than later, was Gillette interrupting his conversation with himself to interrupt Jack's conversation with Will. "You. Sparrow."

"Me Sparrow," Jack agreed. "What about it?"

"Why is there a squirrel following us?"

Jack looked back over his shoulder. "Oh. Hello, Rodney."

Having been acknowledged, the squirrel came scampering up from his former position slightly behind Gillette, to trot alongside Jack and Will. "Chatter chatter."

"I'd been wond'rin' where you got to," Jack remarked.

"Chatter chatter. Chatter," Rodney explained.

"Ah, o' course. Good to know ye weren't desertin' in the face o' the enemy."

"Chatter!" Rodney said indignantly.

"No, no, 'course I wouldn't b'lieve it of you!"

"Chatter chatter. Chatter chatter chatter?" Rodney asked, shooting several venomous Looks at Gillette. "Chatter chatter?"

Jack frowned thoughtfully. "No…better not."

"Better not _what_?" Gillette asked, sounding somewhat anxious. He'd been following the preceding conversation with wide eyes, expression distinctly confused.

"Better not destroy you. Least, not right now. Maybe later."

Gillette swallowed. "Oh. Right. Sure."

"Chatter chatter?" Rodney demanded.

"Because, he's got a pistol pointed at us, he's liable to fire if you move towards him," Jack explained.

"Well he will _now_," Will said, voice exasperated. "You didn't have to tell him that the squirrel was going to attack."

"But the squirrel's not going to attack, that's the whole point."

"Chatter chatter," Rodney muttered, then scurried up Jack's leg and arm to settle on his shoulder.

"Watch the claws, mate," Jack said, shifting his shoulder a bit.

"Chatter," Rodney apologized.

"No harm done."

"This is ridiculous!" Gillette snapped.

"I agree," Will put in.

"You can't agree with him, he's the enemy!" Jack objected.

"It's not like I'm agreeing with him about anything important," Will pointed out.

"It's the principle o' the thing," Jack insisted stubbornly. "Ye can't go agreeing with the enemy 'bout _anything_, that's just the way things work, y'know, and—"

"That's enough," Gillette interrupted. "I don't want any more conversations. No more talking to anyone, Sparrow—not to me, not to Turner, not even to the stupid squirrel."

"_Chatter_!" Rodney snapped.

Jack kept his mouth shut. For maybe ninety seconds, tops.

"Y'know what would be really nice right now?" Jack remarked.

"I said no talking," Gillette said tightly.

"You said no talking to any of _you_," Jack corrected. "I happen to be talking to myself. Stop eavesdropping."

Gillette's mouth snapped shut and the lieutenant silently fumed.

Jack nodded once, and went on with his conversation. "What would be really nice, would be if Gibbs, or Ana, or Elizabeth, or any o' my crew happened to wander this way. Just by chance, you know. But I s'pose that wouldn't happen 'less someone went an' told 'em we were in trouble an' led 'em back here. 'cept there's no one to tell 'em that, o' course."

"Chatter chatter," Rodney said suddenly. "Chatter chatter chatter chatter!" He leaped down from Jack's shoulder, began to scurry off, paused long enough to make a rude noise at Gillette, then scampered away.

"Is that squirrel going for help?" Gillette demanded, then shook himself. "No, that's ridiculous…he couldn't possibly tell anyone you were in trouble and bring them back here…could he?"

"'course not," Jack said easily, and raised his right hand. "I swear it on my honor as a pirate."

"All right then…" Gillette said, apparently reassured but still watching Rodney disappear into the night.

Will took advantage of Gillette's partial distraction to lean over to Jack and mutter, "I thought pirates don't _have_ honor."

"They don't," Jack agreed in a whisper. "You know that an' I know that, but his lieutenantship doesn't know that."

"Quit whispering and keep walking," Gillette ordered, which effectively ended all conversation for several minutes.

Until Jack noticed where they were walking to. "Is it just me, or are we heading for the western side o' the cornfield?"

"I said no talking!" Gillette snapped.

"Yes. I know. I just don't care," Jack explained. "Now are we heading west or not?"

Gillette hesitated, caught between wanting to enforce his no-talking command, and the realization that there was really no way _to_ enforce it. So in the end he answered the question. "We are going west, as the Commodore intends to have all Navy personnel in this area regroup at dawn on the western side of the cornfield."

Jack and Will looked at each other, and for the reader who's forgotten previous details we'll quickly note what Jack and Will were thinking—namely, that Jack had arranged for the pirates to regroup at dawn on the western side of the cornfield.

"It's gonna be an int'restin' dawn," Jack remarked to no one in particular.

It wasn't going to be an interesting dawn for an another hour or so though, and when Gillette decided they'd walked far enough and might as well sit down and wait, it looked like it was going to be a dull hour. Even though Jack tried to get him to keep walking.

"No, no, we can't stop here!"

Gillette blinked at him. "Why not?"

"This is bat country!"

"Shut up, Sparrow," Gillette said resolutely, and sat down.

"Fine, but don't blame me if you get bats in yer wig," Jack said sulkily.

And then it really looked like it was going to be a dull hour until dawn. Until Rodney caught up with them, and brought reinforcements besides.

"Elizabeth!" Jack exclaimed. "Imagine meeting you here! What a coincidence!" If he really wanted Gillette to believe that Elizabeth was there merely by chance, the pretence was somewhat ruined by Rodney jumping up onto Jack's shoulder and chattering excitedly. "Yes, yes, you've done very well," Jack assured him.

"The squirrel brought help," Gillette said dazedly. "But that's not _possible_…"

"Not probable," Jack threw in.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was ready to scold anyone and everyone in sight, beginning with Jack and Will. "I turn my back for five minutes, and you manage to get captured by the Navy!"  
"It wasn't quite that fast," Will said, looking guilty.

"And it was actually no easy feat," Jack explained. "Really, it took some effort."

"Shut up, Jack," Elizabeth said briskly, and turned on Gillette. "And just what heroic feat have you decided you're doing?"

"Uh…I'm containing a dangerous criminal," Gillette said, if somewhat uncertainly. "And his associate," he added in reference to Will.

"Why does no one find me dangerous?" Will asked in a mutter, more to himself than anyone.

Jack answered anyway. "'cause you're not dangerous. Easy answer."

Elizabeth was still focused on Gillette. "How much money will it take to convince you to let them go?"

Gillette grew distinctly indignant. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"Yes. Will it work?"

"No!"

"But it was generous of you anyway," Jack told Elizabeth.

"I was only negotiating, I was expecting _you_ to pay the actual bribe," Elizabeth informed him.

"Oh." Jack frowned thoughtfully. "Well, that's less generous, but fair."

"Agreed." Elizabeth looked at Gillette, apparently calculating. "Do you think the three of us could overpower him and get the pistol away?"

"Definitely, but only if we don't mind having at least one of us be shot first," was Jack's opinion on it. "Should we try it?"

"No, better wait for an improved opportunity," Elizabeth decided, and sat down next to Will. "We wait for the status quo to change in our favor."

Jack frowned. "That's a boring plan."

"But it'll work," Elizabeth countered.

"It does have that advantage," Jack acknowledged.

"It is _not_ going to work," Gillette countered, expression distinctly smug. "The only way the situation will change will be when a lot more Navy walk up at dawn. That's less than an hour away now. It's quite over, Mr. Sparrow."

Jack just grinned. "It's never over, lieutenant. Not until the platform o' the gallows drops out from under me. An' sometimes…not even then."

Gillette was unnerved. He tried to hide it. "That's irrelevant, there's no way your situation is going to improve."

"We'll wait and see," Elizabeth said firmly, and silence swooped in and descended once more. For a few minutes anyway. The silence really never can get a good hold, and hasn't lasted more than a few minutes at any point in recent memory. This silence was broken, somewhat surprisingly, not by Jack but by Elizabeth. It was somewhat more surprising what she said to break it. "As long as we're just sitting here, does anyone want a drink?" Elizabeth asked, bringing out Gibbs' rum flask.

"_What_?" Will said, distinctly shocked.

"I do!" Jack said promptly. "Give it here!"

Elizabeth didn't. "Would you like a drink, lieutenant?" she asked sweetly.

"Drinking on duty is strictly frowned upon," Gillette said stiffly.

"I don't mind, _I'll_ have a drink," Jack said quickly.

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked Gillette. "It's been a very long night…"

"_Very_ long, for _everyone_ involved," Jack agreed. "Which is why, if you wouldn't mind passing the rum this direction…"

Elizabeth ignored him. "Just one drink, lieutenant? _I_ won't tell the commodore."

Gillette wavered. "Well…maybe _one_…"

Three drinks later Lieutenant Gillette was staggeringly drunk.

"I didn't know anyone got drunk that fast," Jack said, sounding awed.

"We're just lucky he's not normally a drinking man," Elizabeth said. "Plan might not have worked if he was."

"It was a good plan though," Will remarked.

"Let's _sing_ something!" Gillette said suddenly.

Jack's eyes fairly lit up. "I know lots of good songs!"

Will quietly groaned. "Here we go…"

"How about 'A Pirate's Life for Me?'" Jack suggested.

Gillette shook his head, nearly losing his balance entirely in the process. "No…no, I can't sing a pirate song."

Jack frowned. "Why not?"

Gillette blinked, and looked thoughtful for a long moment. "…I don't know."

"Good! Let's sing something then!"

"I remember!" Gillette said triumphantly. "I'm against pirates! Pirates are a pestilence that needs to be wiped out!"

"Funny, I know plenty o' people who'd say that about the Navy," Jack said conversationally.

Gillette stared at him for a few seconds, then abruptly and without warning broke into a very loud and very off-key rendition of 'The British Grenadiers.' "Those heroes of antiquity, never saw a cannon ball, or knew the force of powder, to slay their foes withal. But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears, sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadier!"

Jack made a sound of general disgust, difficult to transfer to the page but more or less resembling "ulllk."

Gillette was busy trying to remember the next verse. "Uh…whenever we are commanded…to storm the…something, our leaders march with…something else, and we with…um…"

"Someone stop him," Jack requested.

Elizabeth hurriedly pushed the rum flask at Gillette. "Here. Have another drink."

"Gladly!" Gillette said enthusiastically, taking the proffered flask.

Jack watched rather bitterly. "You sure there isn't enough to go around a bit?"

"Doesn't matter, Jack, the last thing we need is for you to get drunk and pass out," Elizabeth said flatly.

"Like I'd get drunk on a couple swallows o' rum," Jack muttered. "I ain't Gillette I don't get drunk that easy."

The rum was having a distinctly dramatic effect on Gillette. Another drink pushed him from disturbingly upbeat to considerably mournful. "Y'know…we don't usu'lly have this kind o' fun in the Navy," he said, voice wistful and slurred.

"Imagine that," Jack said dryly.

"We're all ver' uptight, y'know. Al'ays followin' orders. An' what does it get us?"

"Heartache?" Jack suggested.

Gillette sighed deeply. "I feel incomplete. Like there's somethin'…missing."

Jack frowned. "Yer not a eunuch, are you?" Elizabeth elbowed him.

Gillette continued oblivious. "I just feel _unfulfilled_."

"That's really too bad," Elizabeth said consolingly, firmly ignoring Jack's rolling eyes.

"Ye see, I ne'er _really_ wanted t'be in the Broyal Ritish Navy."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "Broil radish?"

"No, no, no, Broyal Ritish…Royal Bridididitsh…Broyal Iditsh…" Gillette made a supreme effort. "Royal British…Mavy."

"Close enough," Elizabeth said hastily.

"Right…well, anyway, I ne'er really wanted to be in it. Not _really_, y'know. What I _really_ wanted, my secret dream…was to start a company to sell _razors_," Gillette said confidentially.

Jack looked at him very oddly. Will was bored. Elizabeth did her best to be nice about the whole thing.

"Well, that's a…very nice ambition," she said dubiously.

"Yeah…but then I joined the Broyal Itish…Oil Mitish…Boil Hitish…"

"_Royal British_," Jack, Will and Elizabeth said in unison.

Gillette nodded. "Navy." He paused, and frowned. "What was I talkin' 'bout?"

"Something about joining the military," Jack said helpfully, and hummed a few bars of 'We're in the Army Now' for no particularly good reason.

"Right. 'stead o' selling razors," Gillette said, somewhat vaguely. "Mebbe it's just s'well. Could never decide what to call 'em anyway."

"Call the razors Gillettes, why not?" Jack said languidly. "How about 'Gillette Mach Four?' Got a nice ring to it."

Will was staring at him. "You're weird, Jack."

"We already knew that," Jack pointed out.

Elizabeth was focusing on other things than Jack's weirdness. "Does anyone else hear footsteps?"

"Don't hear nothing," Gillette said promptly.

Jack and Will listened more closely.

"Definitely hearing footsteps," Will confirmed.

"It ain't my people," Jack said regretfully. "Mine wouldn't be marching in unison, we ain't that organized. An' we just don't care. Gotta be Norrie."

"We need to get out of here," Elizabeth said at once, rising to her feet.

Will and Jack were quick to do the same, leaving only the lieutenant sitting on the ground. "What are we going to do with him?" Will asked, indicating Gillette.

"He's Navy. We'll leave 'im for the Navy," Jack decreed. "Now let's get outta sight, right?"

Gillette had objections. "Now wait a minute, yer my pris'ners!"

"Here, lieutenant," Elizabeth said, tossing him the rum flask. "Drink up."

This prompted a slight whimper from the general direction of Jack. Gillette, however, entirely forgot that he ought not to let prisoners wander off into the night, and our three heroes disappeared into the cornstalks. Not very _far_ in, though, definitely not out of sight of the outside world—because once out of sight of the outside world, there's little hope of finding it again. The three went in just far enough to crouch behind a clump of cornstalks, out of sight, and watch what developed around the drunken Gillette.

Norrington and an unspecified number of soldiers came marching into view. They seemed to have left the rain cloud behind, though they were all rather soggy. Gillette fairly leaped to his feet and ran up to them.

"Commodore, commodore!" Gillette shouted, waving his arms. "Not good! Stop! Not good!"

Jack was indignant. "He stole my line!" Elizabeth and Will hushed him rather hastily.

Fortunately, Norrington hadn't noticed. "_What's_ not good, lieutenant?"

Gillette had found some interesting things at the bottom of the rum flask. "Giant green men! Yea-high!" he proclaimed, gesturing wildly.

A few scant hours before, Norrington almost certainly would have asked Gillette if he'd been drinking. But it wasn't a few hours before, and Norrington had seen some very strange things in those few hours, and so he asked a different question.

"Which way?"

"That way!" Gillette announced, apparently pointing at random.

And so Norrington led the charge against the giant green men. Good thing he did too. If he'd stayed in place any longer, he almost certainly would have overheard Jack laughing.

o/o/o/o/o/o

And after Jack finished laughing, he decided it would be nice to talk to a few friends. Since authors aren't allowed to talk to people anymore.

Jack is definitely impressed by Stickbug's determination to review every chapter (not to mention between chapters; the author has been known to do that on occasion), and believes that the answer to the question regarding length was addressed at the beginning of this chapter.

He's also pleased that Alania likes the story very much, and agrees that those are good lines. Though Jack also believes that his lines are inherently the best. Because he's Captain Jack Sparrow.

Spaceman Spiff gets a salute for very good effort regarding the chapter quote, and agrees regarding the Hitchhiker's Guide references. The author has only the vaguest memory of Road to El Dorado and had no intention of referencing it, but as she did see it several years ago perhaps it happened subconsciously. Jack hasn't been able to find a good place to use "fine feathered friend" but he _does_ like the phrase.

And in response to Kute Anime Kitty, Jack takes a bow and agrees that he did a stellar job answering reviews. Because he's Captain Jack Sparrow, and anything he does is stellar.

Jack appreciates Queenofinsanity's multiple reviews, but can't understand her opinion regarding Gillette, who seems, if anything, more stuffy than most. But there's no accounting for opinion. And he is impressed that someone knew the Marx Bros.

Jack congratulates Raquedan again for the quote, and wants to know what's wrong with watching a movie fifteen times. Though he'd prefer that you watch Pirates fifteen times. Because it has him. And he's Captain Jack Sparrow.

Jack welcomes Whatshername (because the author is _not_ going to try to remember her newest name) with enthusiasm, and hopes all is going well in her life. He will try to poke the author about e-mailing sometime soon. He also observes that you have excellent taste in quotes.

Jack appreciates the difficulty Saharan Sparrow no doubt had in laughing quietly, and hopes she won't have that worry again this time.

Jack would like to relate that the author about leaped out of her chair upon reading that Ensign Beedrill is familiar with Susan Kay's Phantom, because that book is all but impossible to find, as well as being one of her very favoritest books ever. Regarding the rest of the review, Jack agrees that college is great. He's in a position to know, since he definitely came to college with the author. Large poster on the dorm wall. Good position to watch the author deal with all the papers that come from being an English major. Not that the author actually believes that Jack can watch any of this…don't get the wrong idea here, mate, no schizophrenia, really.

Jack hopes that Lip Balm has indeed kept reading, and continued enjoying the story.

He also compliments insurreality on the tricorned hat, and agrees the Douglas Adams references are fun.

Jack enjoyed the phrase "fluffin' hilarious" from PirateCat, and also offers congratulations regarding the quote. And he is always pleased to hear about his fangirls.

And with that, Jack wandered back towards the cornfield to get ready for the next chapter, not forgetting to request you all to review!


	23. Snapping Fingers

Disclaimer: It has never been mine, it never will be mine. But I love it dearly all the same.

Business first: Last chapter's quote was "That is called cannibalism, and is in fact frowned upon in most cultures" taken from the ever-strange _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_. Congrats to Queen of the idiots, PirateCat, Maseki Hanshou, Kute Anime Kitty, Saharan Sparrow, Raquedan, Tazzel Quickbow, Stickbug, ChaosLightning13, Alania (assuming, since she cited it…), Spaceman Spiff, Dorothy Elavaiygh, and Secrett Window. Double points to Saharan Sparrow, Dorothy Elavaigh and Secrett Window for also catching that "We can't stop here, this is bat country!" was a quote from _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_. One more quote in this chapter! Good luck!

Well, my pretties…looks like this is it. Yes. There actually is an ending. And…this is it. But there is an epilogue. Which explains why we've got two chapters at once here. So, read on… snaps fingers and enjoy what I think is the most random scene of the entire novel. And read the epilogue too, 'cause I have something very special for you all. Now—onto the chapter!

**Chapter the Twenty-Third**

Jack, Will and Elizabeth still had problems, of course. Namely, that it was very near dawn, many of Norrington's forces were massed on the west side of the cornfield (looking for giant green men, yes, but nevertheless present) and all of Jack's pirates were due to be turning up any time now. Which was sure to make for an interesting dawn.

"Do you think we could head off your people, Jack?" Will asked. "Stop them before they get here?"

"Doubt it," Jack said, shaking his head. "No time. 'sides…not much point in it. 'bout time we had a nice climactic fight with the Navy."

"Well, there's that," Elizabeth said doubtfully. "But all the same don't you think we should try—"

"Too late," Jack observed.

Several pirates had just come into view around a stand of cornstalks, and it was almost certain there were more coming at any moment. The ones already present were looking back in the direction they had come and hadn't yet noticed our heroes.

Jack walked up to the nearest, Anamaria, and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hello."

She turned around at once and Jack found himself with the end of a pistol a few scant inches from his nose.

Jack's hands shot up on instinct. "Easy, luv, I'm on your side!" he yelped.

Anamaria lowered her gun as soon as she recognized him, which didn't take long. "Jack, don't sneak up behind me like that!"

"I'll never do it again," Jack vowed.

"Good to see ye, cap'n," Mr. Gibbs said, coming up just then. "We had a bit o' trouble with the Navy back there," he said with a nod to the direction they'd come from. "'fraid they followed us, we were plannin' on a retreat that d'rection."

The pirates had come from the opposite direction Norrington had taken. Clearly the commodore had split his forces at some point, half of them engaging Gibbs and friends, while the other half were rained on with their commanding officer. And that made for just a slight problem.

"There's just a slight problem with goin' that d'rection," Jack confessed. "Norrie and a lot o' soldiers just went that way lookin' for giant green men, and they're sure to realize soon that there aren't any and come back this way."

By now, more pirates had gathered. All of them, in fact. They were pirates, liars and cheaters, but they were also punctual, and the sun was just now rising above the cornstalks. So all of them, plus Will, Elizabeth and Rodney, got to hear this piece of rather unwelcome news.

"So we're about to be caught with Navy coming from both directions," Gibbs concluded rather bleakly.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Jack agreed.

"That's a _slight_ problem, Jack?" Anamaria snapped. "What would you call a _big_ problem?"

"Well…" Jack began to consider, than abruptly discarded the thought. "I don't know, but now ain't the time to consider it, we need to figure what we're doing."

"We don't have to go either of those directions," Gibbs pointed out, "we can always go back among the cornstalks—"

"No!" Jack said at once. "We'd never get out again."

Gibbs blinked, somewhat taken aback. "Oh. Well, guess that just leaves that direction," he concluded, pointing in the only direction that remained.

The only direction that remained was away from the cornstalks and into the next field, which, as the sun rose and cast its light on the scene, proved to be a newly mown field with a multitude of neatly piled haystacks throughout.

"Right," Jack agreed, "we go that way, it ain't a very direct shot to the ocean but if we can lose Norrington we can always circle back an'—"

He stopped abruptly, as a new voice was carried to the ears of the pirates. Two voices, in fact.

"Lieutenant, there are _no_ green men around here!"

"But commodore, I'm sure—"

"Have you been drinking?"

Jack winced. "Norrington."

"Doesn't matter," Will said quickly, "we can still just cut across the fields and—"

"In sight o' the Navy? We'd only get ourselves shot or captured as we go," Jack snapped. "Not a chance, our only option is to stand an' fight."

"With Navy coming from both directions," Anamaria said flatly. "That will go well."

And then the time for talk was past, as Norrington and his blue-coated comrades came around the cornstalks and into sight.

"Mr. Sparrow," Norrington said coldly, reaching for his gun.

"Take cover by the haystacks!" Jack ordered, and before the Navy could get off more than a shot or two the pirates had scattered.

Thus began an interesting interval of actual open warfare, something which had not occurred all night. The pirates took cover among the haystacks while Norrington, Gillette and the unspecified number of soldiers (all of them, in fact, as the other group had come up just after the commodore) took cover among the fringes of the cornfield, and shots were sent between the two groups.

Jack had somehow wound up behind a haystack near to the cornstalks, alongside Will, Anamaria, and Rodney. Rodney was bitterly resenting the current state of affairs, as he couldn't fire a gun and Jack was refusing to let him go bodily attack the Navy, insisting there were too many bullets flying around. Will wasn't exactly thrilled with the situation either.

"Do you have the feeling we could be stuck here all day?" Will asked, as he leaned around the edge of the haystack to fire a shot in the general direction of the Navy.

"Could be," Jack acknowledged, leaning back against the hay as he reloaded his pistol—he of course only carried one shot, no additional powder, but other pirates were less frugal and there were bullets to share around. "We'll have to give it a little time, see how it breaks."

"I guess…" Will said, frowning. "We're too well defended, both of us. We've got the haystacks and Norrington has the cornstalks—"

"That almost rhymes," Jack observed inconsequentially.

"—and neither of us can see the other well enough to aim well enough to inflict much damage. But neither of us can retreat either, because as soon as we move we can be seen and therefore shot. So it's stalemate and we'll be here all day," Will concluded.

"Could be," Jack said again. "We might be able to wait Norrie out though. Or maybe we can find a way to rig the game."

"Rig the game, Jack?"

"Want to know the secret to winning? Creative sportsmanship. In other words, one has to rig the game," Jack explained.

"And how exactly do you rig a gun fight?"

Jack frowned. "There's the problem."

"Naturally there is one," Will said, looking up at the haystack looming above him. "I have an idea though…what if we got up onto the haystacks?"

Jack looked at him blankly. "They'd shoot us as soon as we got up on top."

"All right, not all the way up, just far enough to see over. Higher up, we could see over the cornstalks too." Will nodded decisively. "I think I'll try it." And with that he started climbing his way up the haystack.

Jack shrugged. "If ye insist." He finished loading his gun and moved over next to Anamaria, where she was reaching around the edge of the haystack to fire out. She looked away from the Navy to glance at Jack as he settled in against the hay next to her.

Jack being Jack, he couldn't resist the obvious possibilities presented here. "You know," he said with his most roguish grin, "this isn't exactly how I pictured being in the hay with you."

Anamaria promptly slapped him, fired off three shots in quick succession toward the Navy, and made a run for the nearest haystack over. She made it.

"Chatter chatter," Rodney commented from where he had burrowed into the hay at about eye-level.

Jack shrugged. "Of course I deserved it. I knew that." He was about to take some shots at the Navy himself when there was an exclamation from above.

"_Ow."_

Jack hurriedly looked up at Will, thinking to himself that he hadn't heard any shots that sounded close enough to have hit over the top of the haystack. "What happened?"

Will had stopped halfway up the haystack, and was frowning at the palm of his left hand. No blood was in sight. "Something sharp just poked me."

Jack relaxed. "Oh. It's a needle, right?"

Will fished about in the hay just in front of him, and after a moment pulled out a slim, silver needle. "How did you know that, Jack?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Mate…you're in a _haystack_."

"Oh…right."

Will kept climbing. Jack fired his gun four times. Will reached the top of the haystack and nearly had his head shot off the moment he poked it over. He slithered down rather faster than he'd climbed.

"So much for that plan," Will said glumly. "Looks like we're still at stale-mate."

"I knew that," Jack said, firing again.

"Yeah, well—"

Will never finished the sentence, because Norrington chose that moment to call across the fields. "Mr. Sparrow, I advise you to surrender!"

"It's _captain_!" Jack shouted back.

By now everyone had paused in their firing so shouted voices carried rather well, and there was little chance that Norrington hadn't heard him. He just ignored him. "Mr. Sparrow, I must insist—"

"Call me 'captain' and I might think about it," Jack interrupted.

Jack could almost hear Norrington clenching his teeth. "Captain Sparrow," he said painfully.

Jack grinned. "Thank you, Commodore."

"Will you surrender now?" Norrington asked tightly.

"No. I only said I might think about it. I thought about it. It's still no."

Norrington sounded distinctly exasperated. "You're only going to get your friends killed!"

Jack hesitated at that. "I want to consult with my second-in-command," he said finally.

"Agreed."

"No shooting him while he switches haystacks?"

"I said agreed."

So Gibbs joined Jack, Will and Rodney. "What are ye thinkin', cap'n?"

"I'm thinking I want to know what the crew thinks about surrendering."

Gibbs shrugged. "We're pirates. We surrender, he hangs us tomorrow. No point in that."

"Yeah, that's what else I was thinking. So we don't surrender." Jack glanced at Will. "'course, prob'ly not too late for you an' Elizabeth to pull out o' this…"

Will shook his head. "Elizabeth would probably kill me herself if I tried to surrender right now. We don't abandon friends."

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Good, I was thinking that too. So no surrendering. Gibbs, how are we on ammunition?"

"Got enough to last hours," the pirate answered. "The bad news is, we're going to need it since we seem to be pretty much even matched here. Neither us or the Navy can get an advantage, we can't get anywhere and'll be here all day."

"That's what I've been saying," Will pointed out.

"I do have some good news though," Gibbs added.

"We just saved a bunch of money on car insurance by switching to Geico?" Jack suggested.

Gibbs and Will both stared at him very oddly. "Uh…no, cap'n," Gibbs said.

Jack shrugged. "Too bad. So what's the good news anyway?"

"We 'aven't lost any people yet."

"Good news it is," Jack affirmed. "Now back to the battle."

So the battle waged on, with little progress made for either side. Until Jack had a thought.

"You know something, mate?" he commented to Will.

"What?"

"Norrie an' his men are actually in the cornfield right now."

"So?"

"So it's too bad something random hasn't happened to leave 'em in disarray an' disorder. Like an attack by that flying bowl."

Will had to grin in spite of himself. "That would be useful right now."

"Yeah. Too bad we can't make the strange things happen."

"How could we possibly do that?"

Jack shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. But wouldn't it be great if, say…I could snap my fingers an' something strange would happen. Those Knights of whatever would show up, or that bowl would fly through, or the mattress would come back, or whatever. Just like that."

"Every time you snapped your fingers, something strange would happen?"

"Right. I just snap my fingers, an' something happens," Jack said, putting actions to words and snapping his fingers as he spoke.

Exactly two seconds later a somewhat hysterical shriek rang out from among the Navy. "_Carnivorous mattress_!"

Will looked at Jack. Jack looked at Will.

"It's a coincidence, Jack."

Jack wasn't so sure. "I don't know…" He snapped his fingers again.

A Mongol horde came riding out of the cornstalks, scattering corn, soldiers, pirates and hay in every direction as they went. Half the people present were completely out of cover by now, but it didn't matter because no one was firing their guns anymore. They were all watching as the Mongol horde rode their horses off into the distance.

"Will, I've got the power!" Jack said fervently.

"Maybe," Will said cautiously, "but even if you do there's no telling what might happen so you really shouldn't—"

Jack snapped his fingers again.

A small red rubber ball came bouncing out of the cornstalks, rolled past Jack and Will, and disappeared into a nearby haystack.

"At least that was harmless," Will said faintly.

"I don't want harmless things," Jack said briskly, "I want things that'll wipe out Norrington."

"How do you know they won't wipe _us_ out too?" Will demanded.

"I'll chance it," Jack said, and kept snapping.

A moose, a very small thunderstorm, a falling tree and a lot of ducks later, Will was even more convinced that this was all a very bad idea. Jack was having a grand time.

"Jack, I really think you should _stop_!" Will shouted over the quacking.

"Sorry, didn't mean to step on you," Jack was apologizing to a nearby duck, whose name happened to be Alfred.

Hay was flying everywhere. The Navy had abandoned the cornstalks and were mingling freely with the pirates, who had likewise abandoned their defensive positions. No one was fighting though, too distracted by the strange things going on. The strangeness was fairly indiscriminate about who it attacked, but the pirates were handling it all rather better than the soldiers. Probably because they were all completely mad anyway.

"Jack, _stop_!" Will said again.

Jack snapped his fingers again.

There was a ripple in the grass all throughout the field, and hundreds and hundreds of stems with leaves and buds began to grow at a rapid pace.

"Venus fly traps, right?" Will said sourly.

The buds blossomed.

"Look, Will! Petunias!" Jack said delightedly.

Will stared at him. "I bet you're—no, never mind, I don't," he interrupted himself.

Jack went right on snapping.

A whale fell on Norrington. The Blob oozed out between two cornstalks. Gillette's giant green men came marching through, offering cans of peas to everyone. Gillette himself was carried off clinging to the back of a very large penguin, shrieking all the way—Gillette was shrieking, the penguin wasn't. Superbowl put in an appearance, and so did Edgar Allan Poe, J. Edgar Hoover, and Edgar Rice Burroughs. Also the Phantom of the Opera.

Erik looked around him. "_Not again_."

"Hello!" Jack said cheerfully.

Erik seized him by the collar. "Send me back."

"Hey, no rush," Jack protested.

"You pulled me out of the last chapter!"

"And?" Jack said, mystified.

"The last chapter of A Rose Crushed and Broken!"

"And?" Jack repeated.

Erik stared at him. "It's a romance. It has a happy ending. I was in the last chapter. Are you getting it now?"

"Oh. Right. Well, I can try…" Jack snapped his fingers again. Erik disappeared. Jack beamed. "Wow. That worked."

"And now would be a good time to just stop," Will said pointedly.

Jack snapped his fingers again.

A very large herd of black sheep appeared.

"Jack, no more. It's enough. No—" Will broke off, distracted. "Why is there one white sheep in with all the black ones?"

"It's an albino black sheep," Jack said matter-of-factly, and kept snapping.

Three soldiers were taken out by rabid cornstalks. Rodney was nearly carried off by a giant butterfly, rescued by Jack at the last moment. A dozen three-inch-tall Jacks got into a fight with a dozen three-inch-tall Norries—it was broken up by fighting banana slugs.

Elizabeth pushed through the sheep to reach Jack and Will. "What is going on?" she demanded.

"Jack's snapping his fingers," Will answered.

Elizabeth stared at him. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

Jack snapped again, and 36 Johnny Depp characters appeared—that is to say, all of them, including cameos and unfinished movies, not including Jack who was already there.

"I swear they look like you," Will commented to Jack.

"I ain't seein' it," Jack said, still snapping.

"Either we've all gone insane," Elizabeth said slowly, "or this really is a _very_ strange cornfield."

In the end, the whole confused affair was called on account of rain. Not normal rain, of course. Popcorn, which dropped as the gentle rain from heaven. Jack tried to keep on after that, but now there was butter on everything and his hands were too slippery for proper snapping.

"Guess that's it then," Jack concluded.

"Oh thank _heavens_," Will said wearily, dragging himself out of the popcorn.

Jack, Will and Elizabeth looked out over the chaos. Some of the randomness had already disappeared back into the cornfield, but not all of it. The sheep were eating the popcorn. The penguin had brought Gillette back and was now making conversation with the ducks. Rodney was talking to one of the Johnny Depp characters, all of whom were still milling about. Jack's pirates were scattered about, and so was the Navy. They didn't see Norrington though.

Probably because he was coming up behind them. "You. Sparrow."

They turned around rather quickly then, Jack's hand reaching for his admittedly buttery pistol. Norrington didn't look particularly threatening just then though. He was leaning rather heavily on Gillette, who had regained his sobriety as quickly as he'd lost it, somewhere in the middle of the chaos.

Norrington limped up, and pointed a somewhat shaky hand at Jack. "You."

Jack shrugged, and nodded. "Me."

"You. You're under arrest. Because you're a pirate. And pirates are bad. And it's my duty to stamp out…the pirates in the…" He trailed off. He sighed, shook his head, and waved his hand. "You know what? Forget it. It's just not worth it." He pointed at Jack again. "You're not here."

"I'm not?"

"No. You're not. And very soon you're going to get into your little boat, and you're going to sail away. And then you really won't be here. But in the meantime, you're just…you're just not here." And then Norrington turned and walked away.

Or at least, that's what he wanted to do. Except that he was still leaning on Gillette, and Gillette wasn't going anywhere.

"But sir! He's a pirate captain! He's a menace, he—"

"I don't care, lieutenant," Norrington said tiredly. "I don't care if he's so evil that Hell itself spat him back out. The way my back feels, I'm not arresting _anyone_."

And then Norrington, and Gillette, really did turn and walk away.

Jack stared after them. "So…I guess that's it. I guess I can just…go back to the _Pearl_ and leave."

"It certainly looks that way, Jack," Elizabeth agreed.

"Wow…I never really thought this would have an actual end, I thought we'd just sort of keep wandering forever…weird." Jack shook himself then, and pulled out of his daze. "Well, guess I'll be going then," he said, then glanced around at the chaos still going on around them. "After I round up my crew, that is."

"We'll help," Elizabeth volunteered herself and Will.

So they went to round up Jack's crew from the surrounding chaos. And they also talked to someone who wasn't exactly a crewmember.

Jack crouched down next to Rodney. "Looks like I'm heading back to my _Pearl_."

"Chatter chatter."

"You sure you don't want to come along?"

"Chatter," Rodney said, and made a gagging noise.

"Right, seasick. I remember. Back to the cornstalks then?"

Rodney shook his head. "Chatter chatter chatter. Chatter. Chatter chatter," he explained. "Chatter chatter."

The curiosity got to Elizabeth, who was standing nearby. "What did he say?" she asked.

Jack glanced up at her. "He's been talking to Willy Wonka. Seems he owns a chocolate factory an' employs a lot o' squirrels. He offered Rodney a job." The pirate captain looked down at the squirrel again. "You sure you want to take him up on it? Ye wouldn't rather be a pirate?" he asked a little wistfully.

"Chatter chatter chatter."

Jack nodded slowly. "Good health insurance, huh?"

"Chatter chatter."

"_And_ a pension plan, that's impressive."

"_Chatter_ chatter."

Jack whistled. "_That_ much a month?"

"Chatter chatter," Rodney confirmed, then paused. He turned his head and looked at Jack sideways. "Chatter chatter chatter?"

"No, no, 'course I don't mind, you go ahead. I'll visit ye some time, maybe."

"Chatter chatter chatter!" Rodney said enthusiastically.

"Alright, it's agreed then," Jack said, and very carefully shook hands with the tiny squirrel.

"Chatter chatter," Rodney said, saluted, and trotted off.

"So long, mate!" Jack called after him.

After that, things looked like they were going to all end quietly. The Regulator of Crossovers turned up to raise a fuss about the 36 Johnny Depp characters, and sent them all back where they belonged. Rodney left with Willy Wonka. Most of the other random elements were retreating back into the cornfield and disappearing from sight and our story. Norrington and Gillette had already limped off towards the town, and the unspecified number of soldiers were slowly picking themselves up and moving out. There was no reason not to suppose that Will and Elizabeth would be able to return home whenever they chose and continue their lives. And of course Jack was gathering up his crew. It wasn't long before he had them all together. It looked like it was time for a grand farewell and then best to just move on. Except that the cornfield wasn't quite done yet.

Jack was busy addressing his friends, with a great deal of not particularly necessary drama. "Gents—and Elizabeth an' Ana—it's been a long an' strange night. But we've all acquitted ourselves well, and the Navy 'as retreated in disarray. An' so they will _always_ remember this as the day that they _almost_ caught—" Jack broke off abruptly, staring at the cornstalks and turning almost white under his tan. "_Barbossa_!"

Captain Barbossa swaggered out from between the cornstalks, stepped out of the shadows and stood grinning in the sunlight. "'ello, mates."

Jack freaked. "You're _dead_! You can't be here! Because you're _dead_! I killed you! I saw you _die_! On camera! You can't come back! No one who dies on camera can come back! So you have to be _dead_!"

Barbossa strolled up. "Jack, Jack, Jack…" He moved to sling an arm around Jack's shoulders.

Jack shied away. "Don't touch me. I don't like being touched by dead people."

"Jack, Jack, Jack…_Jack_, Jack, Jack…_Jack, Jack, Jack_…"

"_You_ may be _dead_ an' have eternity, but we poor mortals don' have all day," Jack hinted.

"Jack…there's dead and then there's _dead_," Barbossa explained. "And dead doesn't always mean, you know, _dead_."

"But I _shot_ you! Right in the chest! You're _dead_!"

"Ah, but Jack, Jack, Ja—"

Jack coughed rather loudly.

Barbossa apparently took the hint. "What you didn't realize was…yer shot didn't actually enter my chest. I had an apple in my pocket."

Jack stared at him. "You're not serious."

"What I'm not is, I'm not dead."

"You want us to change that, cap'n?" Gibbs asked in a low growl, raising his pistol towards Barbossa and looking at Jack.

"No…" Jack said slowly, "no, I don't think so…in fact, maybe it's just as well. Because I never had the chance to tell that nasty little secret I know about him."

Barbossa's grin vanished. "Jack, ye wouldn't."

"Of course I would. I always meant to work it in somewhere, but what with all the sword fights I kinda forgot. But I do still know that little secret…the one only I know and that you hate me for knowing."

Barbossa paled. "Jack, ye couldn't."

Jack assumed a grand posture. "Gentlemen…"

"Stop it!" Barbossa ordered.

"…m'ladies…"

"Don't!"

"…let me present…"

"Stop _talking_!"

"…my _old friend_…"

"NO!"

Jack was ruthless. "…Captain _Hector_ Barbossa!"

Barbossa moaned. Jack beamed. Everyone else waited a moment, and then realized that that was all there was.

"So…'is first name is Hector?" Gibbs said finally.

Barbossa groaned.

"The bonsai tree," Will said suddenly. "It all makes sense now."

"Yes," Jack confirmed. "His name is _Hector_."

Barbossa groaned again.

"_Hector_," Jack repeated.

"Stop it, Jack," Barbossa pleaded. "I've always been good to ye…"

"No you haven't, you marooned me—twice—and commandeered my ship…_Hector_."

"Have mercy…"

Jack didn't. "Hector." Barbossa flinched. "_Hector_." Barbossa clapped his hands over his ears. "HECTOR!"

"I can't take it!" Barbossa screamed, and fled.

Jack gave pursuit, shouting "Hector, Hector, _Hector_!" after him as they ran.

There weren't many places for Barbossa to run _to_ though, with enemy pirates and corn on all sides. Jack chased him in a circle a few times (hollering "Hector, Hector, Hector!" all the way) before Barbossa made a break for the town, Jack still at his heels. The two pirate captains ran across the fields, topped a slight rise and disappeared from sight going down behind it, faint shouts of "Hector" still carrying back to the rather surprised crowd.

The pirates—and Will and Elizabeth—stood in silence for a long, long moment, every eye still turned in the direction Jack and Barbossa had taken.

"Do you understand any of this?" Elizabeth asked of the world in general.

"I haven't understood anything for twenty-three chapters," Will said, sounding resigned to the situation.

"Oh," Elizabeth said. "All right."

For a moment more everyone was silent, still watching in case either pirate captain chose to come back. Neither appeared to be making that choice.

"So…what do we do now?" Gibbs asked.

"I have an idea," Will volunteered. "How about we all go home—Navy and pirates and Elizabeth and me, all go wherever we belong—and pretend nothing ever happened?"

"Good idea," Gibbs approved.

So they did.

/o/o/o/o/o/o/o

And then Jack came back from chasing Hector—er, Barbossa—to address a few dear friends.

He agreed with Secrett Window that getting Gillette drunk was fun, and suggests that if you know any uptight Navy lieutenants who wear white wigs and blue coats all the time, you should try it.

He also wants Dorothy Elavaiygh to explain what exactly is so funny about the contents of his pockets, because he think they're really very normal. The author, however, does not have this confusion.

To Spaceman Spiff, Jack gives his trademark bow over folded hands in apology for the lack of usage of "fine feathered friend." And adds that he loves random and meaningless songs, even while sober. Jack also suggests that you ought to write this intriguing adventure in a Chocolate Factory, because the author would enjoy reading it.

Jack confirms the truth Alania has noted—his lines ARE the best. Because he's Captain Jack Sparrow. And speaking of good lines, he was nothing more than an almost innocent bystander. Previews for the sequel are awesome.

Jack, like ChaosLightning, also thinks of Pirates every time he sees _Gillette_ razors. But then, he thinks of Pirates a lot. Because, you know, he's from there.

He does have to disagree with stickbug on one point though. Because, well, he really doesn't want to marry Willy Wonka. So we don't all want to. But he wishes her well on that.

He also has to tell Tazzel Quickbow that all his lines are strictly original, certainly not stolen from Willy Wonka, because he's Captain Jack Sparrow. The author asserts differently.

Jack also explains to Raquedan that Willy Wonka is actually wearing more maroon than purple, if you want to be technical, but the author knew who was meant anyway. And he is reassured to learn that Pirates has been watched many times as well.

As for Saharan Sparrow, Jack notes that this quiet laughing business is really a serious problem, but at least quotes were settled.

Jack still insists to Queen of Insanity that Gillette is usually stuffy. The one lone navy officer who acknowledged Jack's brilliance was Groves. The author and her friends experienced a brief obsession with him and actually went and found out his name. Clearly he is more intelligent than most Navymen. Jack is also pleased—though unsurprised—to hear that he is Queen's favorite character. He is Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.

Jack decided he rather likes Kute Anime Kitty. He appreciates the compliments.

Jack also agrees with Maseki Hanshou that Johnny Depp was clearly more brilliant in _Pirates_ than in _Charlie_. Because he's Captain Jack Sparrow. Not that he has the faintest idea who Johnny Depp is, or anything…

Jack wants PirateCat to explain why it's a _bad_ thing to be daft like him. He rather enjoys being daft.

Jack agrees with Queen of the Idiots that he is hilarious, and explains that the author wants to know why exactly she should be sending an e-mail…?

And at this point Jack notices that he's run out of people to talk to, so he hurries along to the epilogue, advising you all to do the same. And to review, of course.


	24. Epilogue

Disclaimer: If you don't know by now, why bother?

**Epilogue**

Will and Elizabeth departed from the cornfield and made their way home. On arrival, they found a certain pirate captain standing on their porch, leaning on the doorframe as though it was perfectly natural for him to be there.

"'ello," Jack said pleasantly.

Will and Elizabeth stared at him in silence. "We thought you left," Elizabeth said finally.

"Without saying good-bye?" Jack exclaimed. "What kind o' friend would that make me? Sure I'm a pirate, but that doesn't mean I'm entirely without manners."

"That's good to know," Will said tiredly.

"Would you like to come in for something to eat, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, suddenly reminded of manners.

Jack shook his head, beads swinging. "No, no time. I need to get out o' town before Norrie gets some sleep an' medical attention an' decides he wants to hang me after all."

"Good point," Will said quickly. "Well, good seeing you, Jack, keep in touch…"

"Will do," Jack agreed. "An' I'd better be going, so…thank you, and good night."

"It's morning, Jack," Will pointed out.

"Whatever. Really though, thanks for wandering an insane cornfield with me. We'll have to do this again some time."

Will and Elizabeth looked at each other, both doubtful that he had meant what they thought he had meant. "We should do this again?" Will said. "Wander another insane cornfield?"

"Sure, why not?" Jack said cheerfully. "'course, it doesn't have to be an insane cornfield, it could be any kind o' field really. A maizefield, maybe. You know, where they grow maize." His eyes fairly lit up as he seized on this idea. "Hey, yeah, that's it, an insane maizefield! That's perfect, I've got titles for it an' everything! We can call this adventure 'Cornfield Madness,' an' we can call the next one 'Maizefield Craziness!' So you reverse the first letters, see? An' also—"

"Good night, Jack," Will said firmly, unlocking and opening the front door.

Jack rattled on. "An' also it's a pun, see? Maze field an' maizefield, get it?"

"_Good night_, Jack," Will said again, as he and Elizabeth stepped inside.

"It's morning," Jack pointed out.

"Whatever. Keep in touch, but next time you want to talk to us…write a letter, all right?" Will requested.

"Alright, I'll write," Jack said agreeably.

Will needed a few seconds to decipher that sentence, and once he did he just nodded. "Right. Good. Be seeing you, Jack," he said, and closed the door.

"Right," Jack said cheerfully. "Good night. Morning. Afternoon. Whatever." After a moment without response he shrugged, turned, and began the walk towards the docks.

As Jack strolled down the street in Port Royal, all was well in his world. Commodore Norrington was temporarily out of commission, Hector Barbossa had disappeared back into the shadows from whence he came, and Hector the bonsai was still safely located in Jack's coat pocket. He was considering a future trip to a certain chocolate factory to pay a call on a certain squirrel, and there was always Will and Elizabeth to visit too—and while it seemed improbable that he'd ever wander a maizefield with them, it was still an interesting possibility. And in the meantime, the _Black Pearl_ was waiting just off of Port Royal's docks, gallantly flying the Union Jack to convince Lieutenant Gillette—left in temporary command while Norrie recovered—that they were harmless. And so it was really time Jack got back to his ship and set sail. After all, they had an appointment to keep with the horizon.

Why? Because all good _Pirates_ stories end with a reference to the horizon.

_Fin._

And that's all, folks. Thank you all for your loyal support, reading and reviewing through my insane tale and sporadic updates. And I now offer to you…publicity shots. Want to see Rodney, Hector, or the flying pink elephant? Go to "Photobucket. com," and in the search box put in Cornfield(bottom slash)Madness. This will take you to a few pictures from some of the scenes in my very strange story. I wish there were more and I wish they were bigger, but I offer what I have. Enjoy!

And I suppose I ought to just tell you the last quote, since I don't have another chapter to mention it in. "Want to know the secret to winning? Creative sportsmanship. In other words, one has to rig the game" from _Once Upon a Time in Mexico_. If you tell me you knew that, I'll believe you.

And that's it for now. I promise no sequel, but I don't say there won't be one. We shall see. Thanks for all the fun!


	25. Bonus: Dead Man's Chest

Disclaimer: I do not and never have owned it. But you knew that.

I thought this story was finished. I really did. But then two days ago my obsessive friends and I went to see the midnight premiere Thursday night of _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_, and I decided I needed to add just one more scene in response. So Friday afternoon, roughly sixteen hours after seeing the sequel (during which time I spent more time analyzing the movie than I did sleeping), I dashed off this fun little bit. So yes, this IS based on the sequel, there ARE spoilers. In fact, I spoil basically everything that can be spoiled. So if you haven't seen the sequel, go see the sequel (because I know you will) and then come back and read this (because I know you'll do that too). If you haven't seen the movie, leave now.

Still here? Saw _Dead Man's Chest_ already? You may continue.

Strange Interlude the Third

"All right, we're all here, now make it fast, Sparrow," Norrington said, voice irritated.

Jack glanced at him, glanced down at his own distinctly grimy fingernails, rubbed them briefly on the distinctly grimy sash around his waist, made a point of adjusting the beads hanging to the left of his face, and then looked at Norrington again. "Make what fast?"

"This," Norrington snapped. "We're here again, for some unknown and probably unimportant reason, so whatever it is let's have done with it so we can go."

"Are you in a bad mood, Commodore?" Jack asked politely. "Something get caught in your wig?"

There was nothing in his immaculate white wig, but he was looking rather red in the face. "_Mr. Sparrow_—"

"Captain," Jack corrected placidly.

At this point Elizabeth took some pity on Norrington. "You know, he does have a point, Jack. We might as well take care of whatever it is we're here for."

"Fair enough," Jack agreed.

Then everyone—that is to say, Norrington, Elizabeth, Will, Lieutenant Gillette, an unspecified number of soldiers, Mr. Gibbs, Mr. Cotton, Anamaria and an unspecified number of pirates—waited.

After a moment Jack glanced up from further contemplation of his fingernails. "What?"

Norrington did seem in a particularly unfortunate frame of mind at present. "So let's get on with it already! Why are we here?"

Jack shrugged, an extensive process. "Beats me."

Most people present were rather taken aback. "Wait, Jack, you don't know why we're back here either?" Elizabeth said in surprise.

"Nope. Just because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow doesn't mean I'm omniscient."

"How do you know a word like omniscient?" Will asked irrelevantly.

"Doesn't mean I'm stupid either."

Norrington, meanwhile, was not happy. "Well this is ridiculous. We shouldn't be here. The story ended, we even had an epilogue, we aren't supposed to be here. I limped off to my office to recover and plot new ways to capture and hang you."

"And Elizabeth and I went home," Will added.

"Sure, and I sailed off into the sunrise to catch the horizon," Jack agreed. "And yet, here we are, no one knows why."

"You're here because I called you," said a new individual. How he'd arrived no one was exactly sure. He was a small man, and, like many others in the cornfield, really didn't look as though he had any business in a story set in the Caribbean in the early 1700s. He had three pencils stuck behind his ears, was carrying a stack of dog-eared papers, and looked distinctly harried. "We have a problem."

"Yeah, we don't know who you are," Jack said pointedly.

"My name isn't important," the man said briskly, "all you need to know is that I'm a representative from the Bureau for the Regulation for Characters, Settings and Plot Devices, Their Use, Interaction and Involvement in Television, Movies, Writing and Other."

Only to Jack did this make sense (but many things make sense to Jack which make very little sense to anyone else). "Ohhhhhh. You're from Burk-spud-to-it-mwo."

The man stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know. Burk-spud-to-it-mwo."

There was a long pause. "Do you," the man said slowly, "possibly mean BRCSPDTUIITMWO?"

"Ain't that what I said?"

"Not exactly. In any case, my division is…" He hesitated. "Well, normally I'm from the subdivision in charge of the use of plot devices in writing, but due to the current situation we find ourselves in, well, the job's really incorporating a lot of concerns that normally belong to the people over in the interaction of characters in writing, as well as the people concerned with plot interaction in movies, not to mention the people controlling character involvement in—"

"What _is_ the current situation?" Elizabeth interrupted.

He blinked at her. "Why, the reason I'm here. The reason you're here."

"But we don't know the reason we're here," she said patiently.

"But…it's everything you just mentioned. All the places you were when this story ended. You shouldn't have been there."

"Would you perhaps like to tell us _why_?" she hinted.

"Because of the sequel. You _do_ know about the sequel, don't you?"

"Of course we know about the sequel," Jack said indignantly. "Who knows more about it than us?" He sniggered suddenly. "An' as I recall, the commodore here ain't really a commodore anymore."

"It's not funny," Norrington said hotly.

"Poor Commodore Norrington, reduced to slumming it in Tortuga with the pirates," Jack said gleefully.

"It's not funny!"

"Stuck being nothing more than a penniless drunk—"

"Yeah, well, I may no longer be a commodore but _you're_ DEAD!"

Jack stared at him for a very long moment. Then he resolutely turned exactly 163 degrees to present his back to Norrington, clicked his heels together, and folded his arms over his chest. "I am not dead."

"The Kraken ate you," Norrington snapped.

"That signifies nothing," Jack insisted. "My loyal friends will travel to the world's end and bring me back. Johnny Depp already signed on for the third movie."

"You're still dead," Norrington said snidely.

Jack marched up to Will and Elizabeth, stepped between them, and flung his arms over their shoulders. "My loyal friends will bring me back."

"These are the same loyal friends you were going to sacrifice to Davy Jones?" Will said dryly.

"I was never going to sacrifice Elizabeth!" Jack protested. There was a long pause. "Or you! Really! I was just, you know…plotting things. Calculating. Planning. Sending you after the key. Appearing to go along with Davy Jones' deal while we hunted for the chest!"

Will sighed. "Sure, Jack. You just keep saying that."

"You _are_ still going to come find me, aren't you?" Jack asked a little nervously.

"Of course we are," Elizabeth said, patting his shoulder. Will suddenly didn't look pleased.

"Even though you caused my death to begin with…"

"Yes, well…only to save the rest of us. Anyway, we all agreed to go look for you."

"Yeah." Jack beamed. "I feel better. So I'm only kind of dead, and _you're_ a penniless drunk."

"I am not, I'm a privateer," Norrington countered. "I'm the one who ended up with the Letters of Marque."

"But _I_ have a jar of dirt!" Jack said triumphantly.

"What was the big deal about the jar of dirt anyway?" Will asked curiously.

"Hector needed new soil," Jack said defensively.

"I suppose that makes sense," Will said doubtfully. "Kind of."

"Can we get back to the point?" the gentleman from BRCSPDTUIITMWO interrupted.

"We don't know what the point is," Jack countered.

"The point IS, all of those points you just mentioned are entirely contrary to the way this story ended. According to this story, you're still a commodore, which you're not. And you're still alive, which you're not—"

"Hey!"

"—exactly, which disrupts things for all the rest of your crew; that is except for Anamaria—"

"Because I apparently don't exist anymore," Anamaria muttered.

"Maybe I threw you overboard once after you slapped me," Jack suggested.

SLAP.

"I deserved that," Jack agreed, rubbing his jaw.

Meanwhile, the litany went on. "And according to this story you're married, which you're not."

"And we know whose fault that is," Will said coldly.

"Beckett," Jack said promptly.

There was a long pause as Will gave him a rather cold stare.

"Well…maybe it's _sort of_ my fault…kind of…indirectly…accidentally…"

"So the point is, the plot developments for your character arcs are no longer consistent between this story and the official version. There is, in fact, only one character here we're _not_ having that problem with." He pointed at a character who had thus far been blending in with the unspecified number of pirates. "Him."

Captain Barbossa was looking distinctly smug.

"There's no need to look smug just because _you're_ alive," Jack snapped.

"And you're not?" Norrington said innocently.

"I didn't say that!"

"Now Jack, Jack, Jack…" Barbossa began.

"Don't start that again," Jack said hastily. "Anyway, I still killed you."

"But now I'm back."

"He's right though, he did kill you," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "How can you be back?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Barbossa drawled. "Geoffrey Rush and I are very popular, they had to bring us back."

"I know _that_," Elizabeth said, "but why _within the plotline_ are you alive?"

"That's obvious too. Hell spat me back out."

"Whatever," Jack said dismissively. "I'll still have my revenge! I'll bring up your first name in the third movie, you see if I don't."

"You'd still do that to me, even if I help your friends go to the world's end to bring you back? You wouldn't be grateful?"

"Of course I'll be grateful," Jack said stoutly. "I will very gratefully say 'thank you very much for all your help and assistance, _Hector_.'"

"We're losing track of the point again," the gentleman from BRCSPDTUIITMWO said rather pointedly.

"We're still not entirely clear what the point _is_," Elizabeth pointed out.

"The point is, one thing my Bureau does is regulate consistency between stories and movies. This story is no longer consistent with the new developments in the movie. This story is just one point of inconsistency, of course, the entire Bureau is going crazy. We have three years worth of fanfiction stories, a huge percentage of which are no longer in line with the later lives of the characters as depicted in the new movie."

"So?" Jack said easily. "They're stories based on the first movie. They're not based on the sequel."

He looked doubtful. "Do you think it can be divided up like that?"

"Why not? I say it's all right, and I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Which signifies nothing," Norrington snapped. "The opinion of a dead man, who's 'captain' of a dead ship."

Jack was outraged. "The _Pearl_ is not dead!"

"The Kraken ate both of you!"

"Unimportant! Immaterial! Irrelevant!"

"You're both dead, _Mister_ Sparrow. Neither of you could best the Kraken."

"Don't insult my _Pearl_!"

Norrington fixed him with a stare. "_It's only a ship_," he said deliberately.

"Oh sure, throw _that_ at me!" Jack said wildly. "One unwise comment made while we were all fleeing for our lives! One foolish little sentence I didn't mean and only said to save face because the ship was going down and I felt like a ruddy idiot so of course I had to say it didn't matter to protect my reputation so—" He broke off. "Er. That is. Never mind."

"I think you may have a point about stories based on the first movie rather than the later one," the gentleman from BRCSPDTUIITMWO said thoughtfully, apparently oblivious to the exchange going on around him. "There's really no other way for my Bureau to handle the situation."

"And even if it ain't true, _we_ have a loophole," Jack said quickly. Perhaps he was eager for a change of topic. "Nothing else around here makes sense. Why should the continuity add up?"

"That's a valid point," the gentleman from BRCSPDTUIITMWO acknowledged.

"There's the alternate universe idea too!" Jack said excitedly, gesturing extravagantly. "We could be a parallel universe! All the stories could be various parallel universes! Every time someone makes a decision, there's two different directions they could go, and with each decision a new universe splits off, so that in one universe one thing happened and in the other universe the second option happened, with different results, so that everything that happens afterward is different, and…" He trailed off, as though just now realizing that everyone was looking at him a little oddly. "What? It's an established principle in _Star Trek_!"

"We're not in _Star Trek_," Will said flatly.

"Thank you, William, I hadn't noticed."

Will frowned. "When did you start employing sarcasm?"

"Death does strange things to a man," Jack said blandly.

Norrington pounced. Figuratively speaking of course. "You admitted you're dead!"

"I did no such thing!" Jack yelped.

The gentleman from BRCSPDTUIITMWO (who would be easier to talk about if he had a name, but ah well) ignored the immediate tumult that arose. "I think we have enough potential explanations for the continuity gap to leave the story as it is," he said thoughtfully. "My Bureau will be able to give you our stamp of approval."

Immediately a stamp and inkpad appeared in his hands. He carefully inked the stamp, then glanced around as though looking for a good place to make his mark. Then he shrugged, presumably giving up on finding a good place, and stamped Jack's head instead, printing the word "APPROVED" inside an oval in black ink on Jack's bandana.

"Hey!" Jack protested, scrubbing at the mark with one hand.

"All's well now," the gentleman from…oh, you know where and who I mean…said calmly. "Carry on." He promptly vanished.

Everyone looked at everyone else for a moment, except for Jack, who was still scrubbing at the stamp on his head.

"How do we carry on when the story's already over?" Mr. Gibbs asked, mostly so that he could have at least one line of dialogue in this.

"Obviously we can't," Lt. Gillette said, for the same reason.

"I assume he meant go back to our final positions at the end of the story, as we were before we were called in here," Elizabeth theorized.

"I'll go plot ways to hang you then," Norrington remarked. "Even though you're dead."

"I refuse to rise to that bait," Jack said with as much dignity as is possible for a man with the word "APPROVED" written on his head.

"Elizabeth and I can go home then," Will said, putting a somewhat possessive arm around his wife.

"An' we've got a horizon to catch," Jack said cheerfully, and waved a hand to his crew. "Come along, gents. And Ana."

And so off they all went, inside their loopholed alternate universe which is only based on the first movie.


	26. Bonus the Second: At World's End

I don't own it. You know that. I know that. If I claim I own it will Johnny show up on my doorstep to dispute that? If only.

So here we are once again. I think you can already guess what I have to say. You see, I went to see _Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End_ and…well, didn't take too long before I decided I needed just one more chapter of _Cornfield Madness_ in response. This is officially your SPOILER ALERT!!!! If you haven't seen _At World's End_, run for the hills and don't come back until you've seen it. If you have seen POTC3, please, by all means, read on…

Strange Interlude the Fourth

Jack slowly and carefully crept forward, silent as whatever proverbially silent animal you'd like to insert here. When he was within inches of Commodore Norrington's back he leaned forward until his chin was over the other man's shoulder.

"Do you…_fear_ death?" he asked, and smacked his lips in a credible Davy Jones impersonation.

"Mr. Sparrow," Norrington said tightly, "if you do that _one_ more time I will turn around and stab you in the shoulder."

Jack looked at him innocently. "Do you _not_ fear death?" He smacked his lips again.

"Mr. Sparrow, I am not joking," Norrington snapped, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

Jack danced nimbly backwards. "Death has put you in a very bad mood, has it not?" he remarked, still in his Davy Jones voice.

"Mr. Sparrow—!"

"Oh leave him alone, Jack," Will said idly.

Jack grinned. "Whatever you say, Dread Pirate Roberts."

Will gave him a sour look. "And stop calling me that."

"I swear, you look just like Wesley. Except he wasn't immortal. You know," Jack mused, "I'm practically the only one left who's still an ordinary mortal. Except for not being ordinary, of course."

"What about me?" Elizabeth objected. "I'm mortal."

"Are you sure? Or is there something weird going on on account of you being the one true love of the immortal captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and all that?"

Elizabeth hesitated. "Well…they were sort of vague about that, weren't they?"

"And Will is definitely immortal and Norrington of course is dead. It's sort of justice, isn't it, Commodore?" Jack said in a whimsical tone. "You kept insisting that I was dead, and now _you're_ dead and I'm not."

Commodore Norrington was looking extremely dignified. "So I am. But I died with honor."

"Overrated," Jack said dismissively.

Norrington stuck to his point. "I did something noble, kissed Elizabeth, and died heroically. There are worse ways to go."

"Come to think of it," Jack said thoughtfully, "_I_ did something noble, kissed Elizabeth, and died heroically." He looked at Will. "Better watch out, my friend. Bit of a Black Widow, isn't she?"

Will grinned (you know, that grin from the last scene of the first movie, right after Jack complimented his hat; it's a nice grin). "I think I'll take my chances."

"It helps that you have immortality. Though come to think of it again," Jack continued, "_you_ were doing something noble, then you kissed Elizabeth, and then very shortly later you died heroically. Only you didn't actually die, on account of all that business about stabbing the still-beating heart of Davy Jones and being granted immortality. But still. The pattern holds."

"Jack, this is ridiculous," Elizabeth protested.

"How about the first movie?" Will raised in counter-argument. "I did something noble, kissed Elizabeth, and didn't die heroically."

"Maybe you have some kind of immunity," Jack suggested.

Will considered. "Lucky for me."

"You're not taking him seriously, are you?" Elizabeth asked Will, rather incredulously.

"Now let's think about this, did she kiss anyone else who died heroically, after doing something noble?" Jack asked of the group at large.

"Jack, this is completely ridiculous," Elizabeth insisted. "I didn't kiss Barbossa before he died."

"No, that death was on me," Jack agreed.

"And Sao Feng kissed me just before he died, but he definitely wasn't doing anything noble, and I don't think he died particularly heroically."

Will blinked. "You kissed Sao Feng?"

"No, he kissed me. It's not the same thing at all."

Will stopped to consider this distinction. The conversation went on.

"But you didn't like Sao Feng, maybe that makes a difference. Anyway, there's still a bit of a connection there. And you know what, I think I knew this!" Jack exclaimed. "You know. Subliminally," he elaborated, with some inexact pointing towards his own head.

"You mean subconsciously?" Norrington asked in a rather grieved tone.

"Whatever. Right after the whirlpool incident. I'd just done something noble, Elizabeth wanted to kiss me, I refused, and _I didn't die heroically_."

"That's interesting," Will mused, then blinked. "Wait, what?"

"After the whirlpool incident, I'd just—"

"You wanted to kiss him?"

Elizabeth looked a little apologetic. "It was just sort of a…friendly kind of thing."

"But you'd just married me!"

She smiled. "I know. I remember that." The smile grew. "And I remember after that."

Will started to smile himself. "Yeah?"

"Woah, rating! Rating!" Jack yelped, making frantic slashing motions. "PG rating!"

"K+, actually," Gillette put in helpfully.

Jack stared at him. "Shut up."

Gillette slunk away.

Jack glanced at Will and Elizabeth, who were still making dewy eyes at each other. Then he glanced at Norrington. "Hey, Commodore."

"What?"

Jack grinned. "Do you _fear—_"

"_Enough_!" Norrington roared, drawing his sword.

Elizabeth jumped in to intervene. "All right, all right, don't kill each other!"

"He's already dead," Jack pointed out.

Norrington raised his sword a little higher.

Elizabeth glared at the pirate captain. "_Jack_!" He assumed his most innocent expression, and after a moment Elizabeth turned back towards Norrington. "He's sorry. Aren't you, Jack?" A pause. "_Aren't you_, Jack?"

Jack's head jerked around a bit in something that could have become a nod or a shake, but finally his chin went decisively down in the affirmative.

Norrington grudgingly sheathed his sword.

"Really, Jack, stop pestering him about it," Elizabeth said sternly. "He's right; he died heroically."

"Exactly. I redeemed myself, aided Elizabeth, defied Davy Jones and died heroically," Norrington said firmly. "Not bad for one movie."

Jack shrugged. "I came back from the dead, helped save the world, inadvertently betrayed that I care about Will's fate, and made a lot of fangirls happy. Not bad either."

"What was that last?" Norrington asked with a frown.

"Made a lot of fangirls happy. You know. The hallucination sequence. Half a dozen shirtless Jack Sparrows." Jack shrugged. "Made a lot of fangirls happy."

"Huh," Norrington said thoughtfully.

Elizabeth grinned. "I became King of the Pirates. And Mrs. Turner. Good enough for me."

"How about you?" Jack asked, and poked Will in the shoulder.

Will shrugged. "I had a very good movie. Helped save the world, married Elizabeth, became the immortal captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, and had a son."

"Yes." Norrington shot a glance at Jack. "William _James_ Turner."

"What?" Jack yelped. "That wasn't in the credits! That was _not_ in the credits! 'Young Will Turner.' _That_ was in the credits! Nothing about a middle name!"

"No. That was something some of the fans decided. Namely the author of this piece, so therefore it's relevant here."

"That doesn't make any sense," Jack complained. "She's a _Jack_-fangirl. Card-carrying. If my fangirls had cards, I mean."

"That's true but…" Norrington trailed off into a mutter.

"What was that, Commodore?" Jack asked pointedly.

Norrington was looking embarrassed. "Never mind. Forget I said anything. You were right. She's your fan."

"No no no no, if you're admitting I'm right there must be something interesting you're trying not to say. What is it, Commodore?"

Norrington gritted his teeth. "Just because she's officially your fan doesn't mean she isn't fond of me too. She likes my eyebrow acting. And…often as not she refers to me as Norrie."

Jack looked rather gleeful.

"Don't say anything," Norrington snapped. "And even if you _do_ say something the fact that still remains that she decided the kid ought to be named William _James_ Turner. Top that," he concluded, with an almost Jackian air.

"That's not fair," Jack said sulkily. "Why not William _Jack_ Turner? That's a nice name." He looked to Elizabeth for judgment on the question. She was, after all, the relevant one.

"He did die helping me, Jack," Elizabeth said, somewhat apologetically.

"_I_ helped! The whole business with the still-beating heart of Davy Jones? And him stabbing it? Made him immortal? So that you and he could—"

"Rating," Will murmured.

"Never mind. Anyway, I helped."

"Yes, but you didn't _die_," Elizabeth explained.

"Oh. I see how it is. Because he's dead and I'm not—fine. That's just fine. I don't need a namesake. I have a ship."

"No, you don't," Norrington said flatly. "Barbossa took the _Pearl_ from you. Again."

Jack flapped a dismissive hand at that. "I'll get her back. Only a matter of time. This is a temporary aberration hardly worth mentioning."

"You don't know where Barbossa is sailing to," the Commodore pointed out.

"Don't need to. He'll come to me. I stole his charts. And his apples."

And with that news it seemed so patently obvious that Barbossa would in fact go in pursuit of Jack that no one felt the need to comment on it.

"So then I can take my _Pearl_ and go find the Fountain of Youth. The Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow," Jack said grandly. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Not particularly," Norrington said sourly. "You'll never find it, you know."

"Of course I will," Jack said stoutly. "If I can't find it on the chart, I'll just go to France and get a little more information there."

"Why would you be able to get information from the French?" Will asked, puzzled.

"Not the French, exactly. One resident of France," Jack elaborated. "A Mr. Johnny Depp."

"Jack, what are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked.

"Johnny Depp. Compare the movies. The man hasn't aged in twenty years. Obviously he knows where the Fountain of Youth is," Jack concluded.

"That's absurd," Norrington said flatly. "Do you really think some actor—"

"Oh hey," Jack said suddenly. "I forgot the most important thing I did in the movie."

"Completely lose your mind?" Norrington suggested, willingly abandoning the previous line of thought. "More so than usual, I mean."

"No no no, not that, I meant when I—wait, where's Barbossa?" Jack looked around. "Barbossa!"

"What do you want, Jack?" Barbossa drawled, randomly entering the scene. That's how everyone appears in a strange interlude, you know. They're there or they're not there and really probably everyone is more or less around, but not in particularly clear focus until they actually have something to say.

"Oh there you are…_Hector_." Jack was looking gleeful again. "Told ya I'd call you by name. First chance I got. Revealed your first name to the whole wide world."

"And you'll notice I didn't run screaming away," Barbossa said dryly.

"A minor oversight on the part of the writers. They'd've done it if they'd thought of it," Jack said confidently.

"Perhaps. But as enjoyable as this is—"

"It's not," Norrington muttered.

"You're just trying to change the subject away from your first name," Jack deduced, probably correctly.

"As enjoyable as this is," Barbossa repeated firmly, "I feel at pains to point out that as yet we have no idea why we are here."

"Yes, there must be some reason for gathering here other than to give Mr. Sparrow the chance to annoy everyone," Norrington said dryly.

"No, I think that's the major one," Jack said with a cheerful smile.

Everyone stared at him rather.

Jack snapped his fingers as though he'd just remembered something. "Now that you mention it, I almost forgot…" He patted at the pockets of his long coat. "Wait, it's around here somewhere…"

Will moaned. "Not again."

"Ah ha, here it is!" Jack said triumphantly, pulling out a slightly grungy stack of papers. He unpeeled the top one from the pile and held it up. "I got this letter from the people over at BRCSPDTUIITMWO, which, in essence and essentially, informs us that with the developments in the third movie etc. etc., this story is now even farther out of whack, so to speak, with the official canon of the later developments in the lives of the characters, as such that dead Admiral Norrington is still a living Commodore and ol' William is a mortal blacksmith instead of the immortal captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ and I'm actually aboard my _Pearl_ instead of _very temporarily_ absent and so on and so forth ad nauseum addendum ad hoc habeas corpus. So incognito, we have to sign a lot of paperwork to officially qualify for status as an alternate universe," Jack concluded, looked around, and beamed at everyone.

Everyone was still staring at him rather, though for a different reason.

"Did you mean to say," Barbossa asked, "so in conclusion?"

"Possibly. Who cares?"

"What paperwork, Jack?" Elizabeth asked, which was in fact more to the point.

"Wait, they sent directions too." Jack rustled around in his coat a little more and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. He gave it a snap and, in the classic and often-done joke, the paper unrolled down to his feet. He perused it for a few seconds. "Looks like we all have to sign. That's about it."

"All major characters or _all_ characters?" Elizabeth attempted to clarify.

Jack rustled through the scroll. "Looks like…all characters who appear in this story. That leaves out someone like Davy Jones. He's been mentioned in the strange interludes but not in the story proper. Everyone who appears in the story proper has to sign off as a member of the alternate universe, with attending alternate life path as consequence."

"Even the unspecified number of soldiers?" Will asked doubtfully.

There was a good deal more rustling from the scroll. "No…according to paragraph 6, line 12, section 8, they're an exception on account of not being individuals per se, and therefore not possessed of individual life paths. There's no way to know whether they're the same unspecified soldiers from the movie, ones from a different movie, or ones who originated solely in this story."

"You're reading half of this verbatim, aren't you?" Will commented.

Jack looked up. "How could you tell?"

"You wouldn't use a phrase like 'per se' on your own. Not correctly."

Jack made a vague noise of ruffled dignity, and continued perusing. "Characters from fictional sources apart from _Pirates of the Caribbean_ also have to sign off. That means the Knights of Ni and the ghost of Samuel Arrow but not the living Samuel Arrow and all 36 Johnny Depp characters but not Elmo because he was only in the strange interlude."

"That's a lot of signatures," Elizabeth reflected. "We'd better start signing."

Papers started passing and people started signing and everyone broke into smaller groups and clumps and busily read through forms.

Jack didn't bother reading and just signed a sprawling "Captain Jack Sparrow" on the dotted line at the bottom, then looked around to see what everyone else was doing. He noticed first that everyone else seemed to be busy and noticed second that Norrington was somewhat off by himself.

A rather mischievous grin stole over Jack's face, and he took advantage of his moment to steal up behind Norrington. "Psst! Norrie!"

Norrington jumped. "Don't _do_ that. And don't call me that," he added testily.

"So is it the name, or is it me saying it?"

"Just don't, all right?"

"Say you had a girlfriend. Would you mind if _she_ called you 'Norrie'?"

"Mr. Sparrow—" Norrington made an effort at reining in his temper. "Did you actually have something to say?"

"Oh. Yes. All that business about helping Elizabeth and dying heroically…"

"Yes?" Norrington said warily.

Jack shrugged. "You did good."

Norrington stared at him. "What did you just say?"

Jack looked at him askance. "I said something genuine, sincere and downright nice to you once, I'm not saying it _again_."

"Um…thank you?"

"You're welcome," Jack said easily. "And can I ask you something?"

Norrington was off-balance and off-guard. "What is it?"

Jack grinned wickedly and some part of Norrington already knew what was coming. "Do you _fear_ death?" he asked, and smacked his lips.

"That's _it_!" Norrington snapped, and drew his sword.

And then they were off and running once again. Because that's the way this particular alternate universe works; everyone chases everyone else in endless circles and no one's immortal and no one's dead either and really what matters is that everyone, but especially dear ol' Jack, just banter on forever.

o/o/o/o/o

And this really is the end. Really. Unless they make another movie, perhaps. Or if my friend Meaghan ever does pester me into writing a sequel. 'Til next time, ladies and gentlemen…keep a weather eye on the horizon.


	27. Bonus the Third: On Stranger Tides

_Author's Note: Welcome back to the cornfield! Having just seen _On Stranger Tides_ last night, I thought it would be fun to write up a chapter in response_._ I haven't been writing serious fanfiction for quite a few years (not that this story was ever _serious _exactly) but it was fun to revisit._

_While I'm here, thanks to everyone for your support over the years when I was writing here much more frequently. I'm still writing all the time, but focusing on original things now. If you're interested, check out my blog, Tales of the Marvelous (http:/ marveloustales (dot) wordpress (dot) com) where I share book reviews and my writing._

_Enough business, on to the story! I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_, etc., etc., and if you haven't seen _On Stranger Tides_ yet, considered yourself warned of spoilers!_

**Strange Interlude the Fifth**

It was movie night in the cornfield. Movie nights were rare—although, considering this was a time hundreds of years before movies were invented, they were less rare than you might expect. Every few years, the characters of the cornfield would gather to see what the latest developments were in their canon lives. Tonight—_On Stranger Tides_.

"A brilliant piece of cinema," Jack pronounced, after the movie—but not his Super-Extra-Large-Jumbo-Really-Big-size bucket of popcorn—had been finished.

"You only think that because you got to be the lead," Will said. He had found it all rather less engaging than previous installments.

Jack bristled with indignation. "_Got to be_? As if it was a new development? I have _always_ been the lead. Always. What we saw here wasn't a change of lead, but a clear effort to focus in on the ones who really matter. Separating the wheat from the chaff."

"So that makes us chaff?" Elizabeth said, eyebrows arching in disapproval.

"But you're _attractive_ chaff," Jack said with his most winning smile. "Popcorn?" he asked, offering her a handful from his bucket.

Elizabeth looked at the state of his fingernails, and declined the popcorn. She also declined to be charmed.

"Oh calm down, luv, no insult meant to either of you," Jack said, with a wave of his hand that encompassed Will, Elizabeth—and came to an abrupt halt before reaching Norrington. "You I can insult," Jack decided.

Norrington shot him his most withering look. "It seems abundantly obvious how very badly I was needed. I'm barely gone and the Royal Navy falls absolutely to shambles, with notorious pirates becoming officers, ships of the line sent off on ridiculous chases involving mythical fountains—" He broke off abruptly. "Mr. Sparrow, do not throw popcorn at me."

"Sorry, were you saying something?" Jack asked, bouncing a piece of popcorn off of the brim of Norrington's hat, then tossing another up in the air and catching it on his tongue.

"I was _saying_ that Barbossa in the Navy is an affront to all sensibilities, and probably a sign that the entire world has run mad," Norrington snapped, then snatched off his hat to tip out the popcorn Jack had contrived to land in the crown.

"You mean you wouldn't be amenable to welcoming me into your fine and noble service?" Barbossa drawled. "For King and country, eh?"

Norrington clapped his hat back on his head. "The only thing I would find more disturbing would be if Mr. Sparrow—"

"Captain," Jack interrupted, hitting Norrington in the forehead with more popcorn. "I keep telling you. _Captain_."

"—if _Mister_ Sparrow decided to join the King's Navy."

"What a revolting idea," Jack said, leaving off his popcorn assault as he considered this possibility. "I'd have to follow orders." He gasped. "I'd have to wear a _wig_!"

"You know what I found much stranger than Barbossa in the Navy?" Elizabeth said with a grin. "Jack fell in love!"

"Woah! No—nonono." Jack waved his hands in vigorous denial. "Absolutely untrue. There were merely _stirrings_. Like…soup. You don't claim that soup is in love just because it's stirred now and then."

"How about that exchange at the end?" Elizabeth countered. "She said she loved you, and you said…"

"As do I. And I do. I've always been very fond of me."

Elizabeth sighed. "You're incorrigible. And a cad."

Jack grinned, gold teeth glinting. "But lovable!" He tossed up two pieces of popcorn and caught them both in his mouth.

"One thing I didn't understand," Will said, perhaps preferring to move the conversation away from Jack's lovable-ness. "Why zombies? What was that about?"

"Any excuse to drag in the undead," Barbossa said. "I should know."

"It made sense when you were undead," Will said. "But zombies? So it was a case of 'let's have zombies because we can'?"

"A good reason to do anything," Jack put in, in between tossing up and catching more popcorn.

Norrington shook his head. "And that is the kind of thinking that lands a person on the gallows—"

"AUGH!"

Norrington blinked at Jack. "You're usually much more sanguine about hanging."

"It's not the gallows, you—butter, in my eye, ow, ow…" Jack's aim had been somewhat off with his most recent piece of popcorn. "That stings, _ow_…"

"Oh stop being a baby," Elizabeth said, drew out a handkerchief, and marched over to Jack. "Hold still." She grasped his chin with one hand, and applied the handkerchief to his eye.

"Don't smear the eyeliner!" Jack implored.

"Yes, yes, it's fine."

The eye that had been assaulted by popcorn wasn't able to see much right at this moment, between the butter and Elizabeth's handkerchief. That still left Jack with vision in one eye, though, as he took full advantage of the view while Elizabeth leaned over him.

Will noticed this after about ten seconds. "I think he's fine," he said abruptly, taking Elizabeth's arm and pulling her away.

"I must remember this," Norrington remarked. "Why attack you with a sword? I should obviously be using butter."

"That would be inhumane," Jack countered, nose stuck in the air with a superior expression.

"Don't lecture me, Mr. Sparrow, about—"

"_Captain_!"

"You are once again without a ship! You have yet to hold onto a ship for the duration of a movie!"

"I have a ship," Jack countered, neatly ignoring Norrington's second sentence. "She's kinda small right now, and haunted by an evil monkey, but I have her. And Gibbs can find me a goat."

"Not only a goat," Mr. Gibbs put in. "We have an entire sack-full of ships."

"That's right," Jack agreed enthusiastically. "We have ourselves a fleet. And you know what that means? You can start calling me—_Commodore_ Sparrow!"

"Truly the world has gone mad," Norrington muttered.

"Perhaps this time I'll let you keep the _Pearl_," Barbossa said.

"_Let_ me!"

"Now that I have a better ship."

"There are no better ships than my _Pearl_," Jack said staunchly.

"The _Queen Anne's _Revenge is considerably better than a six-inch long _Pearl_."

Jack flapped his hands in rejection of this point. "I just have to get her re-sized. And of course, that means…" He grinned, a classic Jack Sparrow grin. "Bring on Movie #5!"


End file.
